


robbers and cowards

by louistomlinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, Jealousy, Laughter During Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Top Harry, idiots to lovers, just part of the job, mentions of larry/omc but it's not real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistomlinsons/pseuds/louistomlinsons
Summary: “If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think that you’re enjoying yourself.”The familiar voice immediately gets Louis’ blood boiling, shoulders tensing as he calmly spins around, trying not to draw any suspicion to the pair.“You don’t know me at all,” Louis spits, managing to maintain the polite smile he’s been wearing all evening. “You’re just some asshole who always ruins my nights.”“If I keep ruining your nights, why do you keep going home with me?” Harry asks, taking a sip from his own wine glass.“I don’t go home with you by any choice of my own,” Louis says. “I think you’re annoying and I have no idea how I keep ending up in your bed.”“You end up in my bed because you knock on my apartment door at two in the morning.”Louis wants to punch the smirk right off of his face. “Maybe you should move,” is what he says instead.or a modern day robin hood au where louis and harry (don’t really) hate each other but they hate greedy billionaires more
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 40
Kudos: 536





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to [kenna](https://underacanyonmoon.tumblr.com/) and [jess](https://slowlyseducedbycurls.tumblr.com/) for reading this over for me and being the best supporters ever thank u lovelies  
>   
> there is a mention of sex trafficking briefly at the beginning, but that is the only mention of it throughout the entire fic. just wanted to give a warning! if anyone has any questions about the content of this fic, i'd be happy to answer them at [my tumblr](https://adoredontour.tumblr.com/)

For as much as Louis wears suits, he absolutely  _ despises  _ them. They’re always too hot, too constricting, and feel like they’re not his size despite being tailored to perfection.. Liam always says they’re just the right amount of tightness and then pinches his bum. Louis just thinks Liam needs to learn boundaries. 

But right now, he’s grimacing through it, fake smile plastered on his face and never letting his wine glass go more than half empty. It’s the only way to get through the night. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think that you’re enjoying yourself.”

The familiar voice immediately gets Louis’ blood boiling, shoulders tensing as he calmly spins around, trying not to draw any suspicion to the pair.

“You don’t know me at all,” Louis spits, managing to maintain the polite smile he’s been wearing all evening. “You’re just some asshole who always ruins my nights.”

“If I keep ruining your nights, why do you keep going home with me?” Harry asks, taking a sip from his own wine glass. Louis knows for a fact that he doesn’t even like wine, and gains some satisfaction from knowing that he’s not enjoying it. 

“I don’t go home with you by any choice of my own,” Louis says. “I think you’re annoying and I have no idea how I keep ending up in your bed.”

“You end up in my bed because you knock on my apartment door at two in the morning.” 

Louis wants to punch the smirk right off of his face. “Maybe you should move,” is what he says instead. A camera flashes in their direction. “We’ll need to destroy that memory card later. Don’t let me forget.”

“Oh, suddenly it’s ‘we’ need to do something?” Harry’s teasing him, taking another sip of his wine and just barely concealing a grimace. “I thought you preferred to work solo.”

“Fine, I’ll destroy the drive,” Louis huffs. He flags down another server, gesturing at his half-empty glass. 

“How do you drink so much and manage to stay so sharp while working?” Harry asks, instead of leaving like Louis wishes he would. “Isn’t it unprofessional to drink while on the job?” 

“I’m not a messy drunk like you.” To really make his point, Louis takes another sip from his glass. “Some of us can handle our alcohol.”

“Maybe that isn’t as much of a bragging point as you wish it was.”

Instead of retorting with something smart, Louis just scrunches his face in a mocking sort of way and turns. Unlike some people in the room, he has a job to do and he refuses to be distracted. He surveys the room and spots the target. As if he can read Louis’ mind, Liam’s voice sparks up in his ear.

“Lou?” he asks, making sure he has Louis’ attention. “Are you feeling sharp?”

“Of course,” Louis answers, hiding himself behind another sip from his wine glass, finishing it off. He feels more than hears Harry shifting from foot to foot behind him, waiting for his own orders. 

Liam reviews the information one last time, giving Louis the go ahead and the inspiration to complete the mission. It’s easier to steal money from rich people when it’s confirmed that they’re  _ really bad  _ rich people.

“Ready, Tommo?” Harry whispers in his ear from behind, breath tickling the hairs falling over his ear. “Just say the word.”

“Why does working a mission with you always feel like foreplay?”

“Because it is.”

Louis can imagine his cheeky smirk without even turning around. He heaves a sigh and prepares himself.

“The woman, Veronica, is all yours,” Louis says. “Remember that.”

“Sure thing, boss. See you after.”

Louis just barely sees him turning and heading for the other side of the room from the corner of his eye. He takes a second to compose himself - always thrown off by Harry’s presence - and takes the steps for his own target. 

He strides towards the most powerful group in the room. If it were up to Louis, every single one of them would lose every penny they owned tonight. They’ve each got rap sheets a mile long, all horrible in different ways. Unfortunately, tonight he has eyes only for Lucas Reynolds, billionaire funneling millions of dollars into human trafficking. At the same time that Louis catches Reynolds’ eye as he approaches, there’s a team reaching one of his many vacation homes and hopefully rescuing all of his victims. 

Reynolds mumbles something to the other men standing near him. Louis assumes he’s excusing himself, and is proven correct when the man approaches him. 

“I don’t think we’ve met before, have we?” Reynolds says, reaching for Louis’ free hand and kissing the back of it. Louis tries not to visibly shiver in disgust. “I think I would remember a pretty face like yours. I’m Lucas”

“No we haven’t, but I think we could have a memorable night,” Louis responds. He omits offering up his own name, and if Reynolds notices, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he chuckles, a vile sound sure to haunt Louis’ next few nightmares. 

“How forward.” Reynolds finishes off his wine glass, droplets still wetting his lips as he speaks again. “It’s strange that I’ve never seen you before. This is my event, you know.”

“I had no idea,” Louis feigns ignorance. “I thought it was Mrs. Reynolds’ event?”

“She’s a co-sponsor.” The untrained eye might have missed the way Reynolds’ lip curls slightly at the mention of his wife. 

“Well, give my appreciation to her. The event is lovely,” he says. 

“So you’re having a good time?”

Louis nods, keeping his smile soft. “I love coming to things like this. Free alcohol and plenty of people to keep me company.”

“Looking for specific company tonight?” There’s something in Reynolds’ expression that has Louis fighting back a shiver of disgust, disguising it by reaching out and taking a hold of his forearm.

“I think I’ve found it, actually,” he says, and it sounds warm, even to his own ears, holding none of the repulsion that he feels. “Do you have a room?”

Reynolds gestures with his free arm to the wide doors to the room, and Louis knows there’s a pair of elevators just outside that he’s probably anxious to get them to. “I do, actually. The penthouse, if you can believe it. Shall we head up?”

Louis smiles brightly and tries to keep himself from throwing up in his mouth. “I would love nothing more.”

  
  


Kissing Reynolds is like kissing a dead fish, too wet and cold and leaves Louis feeling like he needs a seven hour long shower. Reynolds' suite is larger than Louis’ apartment, and he tries not to give away how much that pisses him off as he pushes Reynolds down onto the couch. 

Louis climbs on top of him, straddling him and avoiding his lips. He avoids kissing his targets as much as possible - always feels so  _ dirty _ when he does. 

“Eager much?” Reynolds laughs, hands coming up to rest on Louis’ waist. Louis tries not to push them away. 

“Can’t help it,” Louis mumbles, leaning his head back to hide his eye roll at the ceiling. He looks back down, smirking the best he can when all he wants to do is recoil in disgust. “Do you like to be tied up?”

“What?” Reynolds pauses at this, hands frozen in their path along Louis’ back.

“Because I think you’d look so good tied up while I ride you,” he continues. “I have the prettiest scarf that I think would look amazing wrapped around your wrists.”

Louis watches the way his throat moves as he swallows, consideration bright in his eyes.

“Yeah, okay,” he finally says. “Yeah.”

Louis leads them to the bedroom, pushing Reynolds down onto the bed. He instructs the man to leave his clothes on, as is part of his normal routine when he’s doing this, pulling the scarf out from his pocket.

He ties it tightly, ignoring the way Reynolds’ face winces when he tugs just a little too hard.

“These are a little restricting, sweetheart.”

Louis feels bile in his throat at the nickname. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”

Reynolds stays quiet as Louis secures the scarf and sits back, admiring his work.

Reynolds doesn’t stay quiet when Louis starts walking around the room, admiring the artwork on the walls and the expensive furniture he’ll never be able to afford. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, trying his best to sit up. The best he can do is tilt his head up and follow Louis with his eyes.

“Being nosy.”

He’s looking for nothing in particular, just using the last few seconds before the rest of the team arrives. His job is sometimes the easiest of all of them - get the target incapacitated in any sense, keep an eye on them, and wait until the rest of the team arrives to place him under arrest. It’s crucial to remove the target from the public eye, however, as not to alert any of his friends of what’s happened to him.

Confidentiality is  _ key  _ in this field.

Louis decides there’s nothing of import laying around anywhere, and takes a seat at the desk. Louis’ no expert in wood, but it appears fancy enough, matching the rest of the furniture in the room. He drums his fingers across the desktop, waiting patiently for Zayn to show up. 

“Done looking for dirty laundry?” Reynolds asks, resigned to his fate as he stares straight at the ceiling. Sometimes the targets struggle against the restraint, but Reynolds seems to understand that he’s done for.

“Yeah,” Louis sighs. “Now I’m just waiting for them to be done arresting your wife so they can come and get you. It’s not as fun when there isn’t an audience to watch you get taken down, but.” He shrugs in a ‘what can you say’ kind of way. “But we wouldn’t want your friends downstairs to know we were on to them.”

“Hmm,” Reynolds hums. He doesn’t have much else to say, and that’s fine by Louis. He has no urge to sit around and listen to Reynolds’ excuses. There’s no excuse for the crimes he’s committed, in Louis’ books.

Thankfully, the team he works with feels the same way. For the past four years, they’ve gone undercover and dismantled plenty of shady operations, and saved thousands of victims. Of course, what Louis and his team do isn’t necessarily legal, but it’s not immoral. His team will bring Reynolds back to headquarters, rough him up a little, and then hand him over to the FBI. 

As if summoned by Louis’ thoughts, Zayn comes bursting through the door, ever the dramatic one. He could have just swiped the master keycard they’d had Liam make. 

“Reynolds!” Zayn cries, as if seeing an old friend. “Ready to go?”

Reynolds doesn’t even try to lift his head to see who’s talking to him. “Not really. I’m not too sure I want to go where you want to take me.”

“You definitely don’t,” Zayn replies, still just as cheery. He gives the signal for the team to make the arrest, standing back and watching it unfold with a half-smile on his face. He wanders over to where Louis’ still sitting, too casual for the scene unfolding around them. “Never gets old, does it?”

“It maybe gets a little old,” Louis says. “Like it’d be super cool if we didn’t have to do this.”

Zayn shrugs. “Well obviously that’s the ideal situation. But at least we can steal his money and give it to good causes instead.”

“Right.” Louis snorts. “Like a proper Robin Hood. How noble.”

“Robin Hood was noble,” Zayn defends. “Harry seemed to have a bit more trouble than you did.”

“I knew Veronica was going to be scrappy - that’s why I passed her off,” Louis says. “Harry likes the challenge.”

“Well, he’s going to need you to kiss his wounds tonight,” Zayn says. “I think his ego’s feeling it a bit.”

Louis does his best to look offended and disgusted, but isn’t sure he’s convincing either one of them. “Not sure why you’re telling me this. He can have whoever kiss his wounds. He’s practically got a fanclub.”

“Lewis and Shawn may be the presidents of the Harry Styles fanclub,” Zayn agrees, “but he’s not sleeping with them.”

“He could be. I’m not stopping him.” Louis notices the room has all but emptied out, save for a few members of the team collecting evidence. “Do you think Harry Styles is his real name?”

Zayn bites the inside of his lip as he thinks. “Is Louis Tomlinson yours?”

Louis decides it’s his cue to leave. 

“That’s one secret I’ll never tell.” He turns and heads for the door, sparing one second to turn around and wink at Zayn, who’s stuck staying back to watch over the cleanup of the scene.

Of course Louis Tomlinson is his real name, but he likes to leave everyone guessing. The more confusion, the better. He likes the chaos.

* * *

Louis can’t believe he’s knocking on Harry Styles’ door  _ again _ .

He cusses quietly under his breath before the door swings open and reveals Styles’ smug face, beaming brightly as his dimples set deep in his cheeks.

Harry’s mouth twists as he tries to get his smile under control. “You have ‘no idea’ how you keep ending up in bed with me?”

“Who said I’m here to sleep with you?” Louis rolls his eyes and does his best attempt of a scowl as he pushes into the familiar apartment. He wishes he didn’t have an assigned spot on the mat next to the door to keep his shoes. He wishes there wasn’t an extra coat hook just for him. He wishes he didn’t know his way past the kitchen, down the hall, and into the master bedroom.

“Right,” Harry drawls from behind him, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. He hasn’t even bothered to put a shirt on, grey sweatpants riding low on his hips. Louis also wishes he didn’t have a habit of leaving dark bruises on those same hips. “So you don’t want to sleep with me, but you’re sitting at the edge of my bed. When are you going to stop this charade?”

Louis divests himself of his own shirt, laying back into the soft sheets. He remembers when Harry made the switch from cotton to silk. He feels luxurious when laying in them, and it’s just a reminder to buy a set for himself.

“Not a charade,” Louis whispers, watching as Harry strides towards the bed. He climbs from the bottom up, until he’s on his knees, between Louis’ legs, and nose to nose with him.

“So you’re not mad that I had to sleep with Veronica?” he asks, trailing his pointer finger across Louis’ collarbones. “That doesn’t upset you?”

“Doesn’t upset me as long as you had a good time,” Louis says. He bites the inside of his cheeks and pretends his skin isn’t warming up at the idea. He’s not jealous.

“What if I liked it more than sleeping with you?”

“Maybe you should sleep with her again.”

Harry snorts, falling on to one of his elbows while he continues tracing with his finger. “Maybe if it were possible, I would.”

As far as Louis knows, neither of them have ever actually had to sleep with a target, but pretending like they have makes this whole ‘enemies with benefits’ thing that much more exciting. If asked, he would say he only goes along with it for Harry’s sake, but they both know the truth.

“Don’t make me beg for it, Styles,” Louis says, voice all but a whisper. The words hang between them, and Louis feels like he could cut the tension in the air with a knife. He doesn’t know how it always feels like this, time and time again, even after doing it for so many years (longer than Louis would like to admit). 

Harry’s mouth quirks in a lopsided smirk. He doesn’t say anything, but Louis gets the hint.

“Please,” he breathes out, and that’s all it takes before Harry is sliding down the bed and stopping until he’s face to face with Louis’ dick, covered by jeans and boxers still. He mouths along the bare skin of Louis’ hips, making quick work of the buttons and shimmying the denim down his legs. Louis’ boxers are next, leaving him exposed to the cool air. 

Harry easily takes Louis into his mouth, using his hands on Louis’ hips to keep him pressed into the bed. 

For as much as he hates Harry, Louis  _ loves  _ his mouth. Louis would probably agree to do anything Harry asked of him as long as  _ he  _ agreed to use his lips against Louis forever. 

He takes his time, obviously in no hurry even as Louis attempts to push into his mouth, body on fire. Harry does everything slow, and this is no exception, twirling his tongue around the head and taking it all the way back in. Louis can feel how warm and wet it all is, and he’s not sure how much more of it he can take before he tells Harry to just  _ get on with it _ .

Harry must sense his impatience, though, because he pulls off. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, breaking out into a wide smile. 

“Not sure what you’re grinning about, asshole,” Louis grumbles, but it probably doesn’t sound as threatening as he would like it to, breathless and face blotchy. 

“How beautiful you sound, obviously,” and the way he says it, it’s like it  _ should _ be obvious to Louis. He doesn’t give Louis a chance to respond, which is probably for the best, before he’s spreading Louis’ thighs and lowering himself between them. He adds in a whisper, “Beautiful down here, too.”

Louis barely keeps himself from groaning, head thrown back against the pillow. Harry’s horrible bedroom talk is a small price to pay for how sinfully good he is in bed, overall. Listening to his cheesy lines is worth it when he licks over Louis’ hole.

“Jesus  _ Christ _ .” 

“Language,” Harry whispers, breath warm and teasing. 

“Fucking  _ hell _ -” Harry doesn’t give him a second to breathe, alternating between featherlight kisses and long strokes of his tongue. 

Louis barely even notices when he slips a finger in, pressing in and licking around it, just grips the bedsheets and tries to ignore the stars behind his eyes and fireworks under his skin. 

He’s not too sure what’s any less intimate about letting Harry go down on him like this versus letting Harry kiss him, but he’s not going to sit down and think about it. It’s easier to allow Harry to do this - it feels dirtier than anything else, especially with the way Harry’s lips shine when he sits up to kiss along the jut of Louis’ hip bones. 

It doesn’t take much longer for Harry to slip in two more fingers beside the first, sitting back and watching his fingers work inside. Louis felt self-conscious the first few times he did this, but by now he’s learned to ignore it, focusing instead on the way it all feels. 

“Condom,” Louis pants, spreading out while he watches Harry dig around in the drawer. Why he didn’t just grab the condoms when he grabbed the lube, Louis has no idea, but it doesn’t matter because Harry comes back to the bed eventually, settling between Louis’ legs again.

“Ready, baby?” he asks, pressing the tip against Louis’ hole and running his hands along the inside of his thighs.

Louis shakes his head. “Not like this.”

A puzzled expression takes over his face, smoothing out as Louis motions for him to lay down on the bed. 

“Wanna ride you tonight,” he explains. 

“Anything,” Harry breathes, and it’s so sweet that Louis feels like he needs to look away. 

The first press in is always just on the right side of too much, leaving Louis with this feeling like he needs to gasp for breath and clutch at Harry’s shoulders. 

Harry reminds him to breathe, whispered sweetly against the skin of Louis’ wrist as he presses kisses there and smoothes his hands down Louis’ sides. His hands settle firmly on his hips, thumbs digging in the exact way they always do, and Louis’ always so surprised that there aren’t permanent thumb-size bruises there.

They fall into a rhythm easy enough, Louis grinding down when Harry thrusts up, quiet except for the few moans that fall from Harry’s lips. Their breathing grows more ragged and Louis knows they’re both close to the edge.

“She didn’t feel anything like me, did she?” Louis pants, thighs begging for him to stop while every other nerve in his body is screaming for him to keep going forever.

“Nobody feels like you, baby,” Harry replies easily, hands sliding from Louis’ hips, reaching around to grab at his ass. “Nobody makes me feel like you do.”

Louis can’t hold off any longer, one hand reaching to stroke himself while the other steadies himself against Harry’s stomach. He comes between them, biting his lip to hold off his moans, shaking as Harry continues thrusting into him. 

“Baby,” Louis whines, and it’s enough. Harry comes, head thrown back against the pillow, chest red from where Louis’ been scratching it, hair spread out across the pillow. He looks beautiful like this, Louis thinks, and promptly throws that thought away.

He climbs off of Harry’s hips, thighs sore and body sweating. He plops down on the bed, waiting patiently while Harry heads into the bathroom to grab a rag to clean themselves off. He does so gently, wiping Louis’ stomach and pressing a kiss that tickles the skin.

“Are you staying the night?” he asks once he’s returned from tossing the rag into the laundry.

“No,” Louis answers, but it doesn’t mean much when he’s got his eyes closed, practically already snoring. 

  
  


Louis tries to slip out in the morning.

Every goddamn time, he tries to slip out in the morning.

The problem comes from sleeping with someone who’s trained to be aware. Even when Harry is sleeping, he’s on edge, a furrow between his eyebrows and his shoulders tense, like he’s just waiting to get attacked.

Louis’ sure he looks the same while he’s asleep.

He tries to slip out the bed without jostling Harry, but it doesn’t even matter because Harry’s eyes snap open and his grip tightens around Louis’ waist. (They always end up cuddling and Louis really needs to put a stop to  _ whatever  _ is going on between them sooner rather than later). 

“Why do you even bother trying to sneak out?” Harry mumbles, voice deep and full of sleep. He loosens his grip around Louis’ waist enough that they aren’t so tightly pressed against each other. “I just wish you would kiss me goodbye.”

“Fuck off, Styles,” Louis says, but after years of this arrangement it’s started to lose the heat behind it. 

“Not fucking off until you kiss me goodbye,” Harry responds. “You know the rules.”

Louis rolls his eyes but doesn’t stop himself from leaning in and gently pressing a kiss to Harry’s damp forehead. He always runs at such a warm temperature - he’s like Louis’ own personal space heater. 

“No kiss on the lips because you’ve got the worst morning breath,” Louis explains when Harry huffs and puckers his lips expectantly. “Now, I’m going home and we’re going to pretend this didn’t happen because it won’t be happening again.”

Harry rolls over onto his back, arms flailing out to his sides as Louis strides across the room. Louis blows him one last kiss from the doorway and ignores Harry shouting at him, “Maybe you could start switching the speech up every once in a while. I’m getting bored!”

Of course, Louis doesn’t go straight home. 

He’s always so paranoid that Harry will follow him, finally figure out where he lives after all these years working together. Louis’ honestly surprised he hasn’t tried harder to figure it out yet. Sometimes he’ll ask in passing, but never presses when Louis gives him no details. But that doesn’t stop Louis’ paranoia. 

He runs a few errands, stopping first by his favorite coffee shop. It’s the halfway point between his flat and Harry’s, and they know him by name at this point. It’s maybe a sign he stays at Harry’s too much, but Louis always ignores that thought when it threatens to surface.

“Will!” his favorite barista, Ronnie, greets him as he comes in through the entrance. The bell chimes overhead, but he’s learned to tune it out at this point.

“Ronnie,” he says with a smile, stepping up to the counter. They may know him by name, but they don’t know  _ his  _ name. “How’s my favorite barista doing today?”

“Not too shabby,” she answers. She pulls out a clear cup and doodles something on it before passing it down the line. “You’re looking a little sleep deprived today. Would you like me to throw in an extra espresso shot in that iced latte?”

“What a polite way of telling me I look like shit,” Louis laughs. “Nah, I’m good with it how it is. Just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Tell your boyfriend he needs to start letting you sleep.” 

Louis would respond, tell her that Harry is not his boyfriend, never will be his boyfriend, but -

But it doesn’t matter, does it? She doesn’t even know Harry’s name. It’s for the best if she knows false things about him. It keeps both of them safer. So if she wants to think he’s staying at his boyfriend’s house this much, he’ll let her. 

“Will!” another barista calls out, holding up his iced latte. Louis takes it, smiling gratefully. He can feel the caffeine headache coming on. “Good to see you, man. Have a good day.”

He nods and then throws a wave at Ronnie before exiting back on to the street. People are bustling around him, busy to get about their days, and Louis falls into the crowd easily. He has a few hours before he has to get to his own job - his day job - and he decides to walk the rest of the way as opposed to hopping on the bus. 

Louis finishes his latte just as he turns on to his own street. He tosses it into one of the trash cans outside his building and enters through the front door. He waves at one of his neighbors and climbs the stairs to the first level. 

A ball of fluff and excitement greets him when he opens the door, and if he weren’t expecting it he would have fallen to the ground. 

“Cliff!” he says, petting him all over, accepting the kisses all over his face. “Hi baby. Did you miss me?”

Of course, Clifford doesn’t answer, but he wags his tail even faster, so Louis suspects that’s as much of an answer as he would get. 

“Are you hungry this morning?” Louis asks. Once again, tail wagging. Louis takes it as a yes and goes to the kitchen to fill up his bowl. Clifford is a good companion, and his neighbors are good neighbors for taking care of him while he’s gone. They never even ask any questions, just let Louis drop Cliff off at one of their apartments when he expects to be away for more than a night, and they always check on him when Louis’ gone overnight. It’s a good system, and Louis will be sad if he ever has to move.

He sits at his kitchen table to keep Cliff company while he eats, tail never slowing as he chows down. 

There’s a million things he should be doing, but he allows himself the few moments of peace before his day truly gets started. The sunlight coming in through the window lands just right to give the room a true feeling of serenity and Louis uses it as an excuse to lounge around for just that extra slice of time. 

Finally, he can’t waste any more time and he stands from the small table shoved off to the side of his kitchen and heads down the hallway to his bedroom to get ready for his shift at the record store. He admires the photos of his friends and family strung carelessly along the walls - there’s one of him and Niall sticking their tongues out together in a selfie, one with his mom and sisters, and even a group photo of the “Robin Hood gang” where Harry is throwing up a peace sign behind Louis’ head. 

He rolls his eyes and continues walking. 

Louis’ bedroom may be his least favorite place in the whole apartment. It’s the coldest room in the whole place, and he can never seem to shake the chill even when he wears socks and layers three blankets on top of himself. There’s a tiny square window on one of the walls, but they put up another building next door and now his only view is a brick wall. It’s always dark, no matter what time of day it is.

He prefers to spend most of his time in the living room or at his breakfast nook in the kitchen, where light is abundant and comes through softly in the mornings and vibrantly when the sun sets. That’s where Cliff spends most of his days too, curled up on his worn dog bed by the wide living room window. 

Unfortunately, the couch is too uncomfortable to sleep on every night and he has to come in here to reach his closet, so Louis sucks it up and shivers as he digs around for something to wear.

He sifts through his vast collection of t-shirts, a collection he’s grown proud of as it’s grown over the years, until he finds a vaguely unfamiliar one. It’s a Rolling Stones tee-shirt, faded and printed on a soft white t-shirt. It’s probably seen some better days, if the tiny holes at the hem are anything to go by, but it’s the perfect shirt to wear to a record store. 

Cliff is curled up in his spot by the window, passed out after eating, so Louis only scratches behind his ears and places a small kiss on the top of his head. The dog doesn’t even notice, just lets out a heavy sigh in his sleep and keeps on snoring. Louis wishes he knew that kind of peace in his own life.

The walk to the record store is one of his favourite routes in the city, taking him past the cute diner on the corner, tucked next to the bookstore owned by the adorable married couple that always remember his name, and just a few doors down from where his favorite farmer’s market sets up. In the summertime, flowers line the sidewalks and people line the block, seated at the patios of all the restaurants on the block. There’s not a chain restaurant or store for at least a ten minute walk from the neighborhood, and for just a moment, Louis can pause time and pretend that this is his life.

Of course, this isn’t his life, and probably never will be. 

“Will!” Calvin greets when he enters the record shop, a bright smile on his face. “Exactly the person I was so excited to see.”

Louis snorts. “Yeah, only because now you get to leave.”

“Among other reasons,” Cal teases. “It’s been pretty slow today. The weather’s nice so everybody’s hanging outside. I can’t blame them, I guess.”

“Sounds like you’re only a little bitter,” Louis says, punching in on the computer. Exactly on time, just like he is for every shift. Calvin could complain about many things with Louis as his employee, but he can’t complain that Louis has ever been late.

Calvin also likes to blame absolutely everything else on the fact that no one ever comes into the tiny record shop without considering the fact that the sign is so faded outside that nobody can even make out the name of the place and that it’s so small a person could blink and miss it. Louis himself hadn’t even known it existed until James told him he would have to apply here.

It’s unsuspecting enough that it offers him the protection he needs, and that’s all that really matters to Louis. It’s only a bonus that it’s usually dead enough he can read a book to pass the time, and one of the baristas at the coffee shop next door seems to have a crush on him and brings him coffee and a pastry any time they end up working the same shift. Life could be worse. 

In fact, he could be Harry. Harry’s “day job” is waiting tables at a bistro across town, and he  _ despises  _ it. The patrons are rude and poor tippers and he says he’ll have to burn his uniform when he’s finally able to quit because the smell of the place has seeped into the fabric. Louis absolutely does not envy him.

Niall, Zayn, and Liam seem to also have gotten off lucky. Liam works at a library and actually manages to spend most of his time doing research for missions, Zayn takes tickets at their local art museum, and Niall teaches guitar lessons. Harry is the only one in their squad who’s pulled the short straw, and he doesn’t hesitate to complain about it.

“Alright, well I’m heading out then,” Cal says. He grabs his bag and surveys the small room before deciding it’s safe to leave Louis alone. There’s literally nobody else in the store. “William, do not let my baby burn down. I will haunt you.”

Louis rolls his eyes. Calvin gives him the same speech every shift.

“Calvin, I pinky promise that if I burn down your baby, you could absolutely haunt me. Although, not sure how that’d work because ideally, we would both still be alive.” 

“Louis.” Calvin takes a deep breath. “If you let this place burn down, you better hope you burn down with it.”

As if. Louis would just change his name and move. However, that is a hassle, so he won’t let the record store burn down. “Aye, aye.” 

He mock salutes Calvin and finally the man leaves, although hesitantly. When he’d first been hired, Louis wondered why there were only three employees in total, but now he gets it - Calvin’s way too paranoid to hire anybody. It’s a  _ process _ . It had taken the last new hire four interviews before Calvin decided to hire him on a  _ trial run _ .

About a person an hour comes in for the duration of his shift, and he helps some of them find specific records and lets the others wander around mindlessly to pass time. Closing up is easy enough, locking the doors and double checking that nothing really looks  _ too _ out of place. (No matter what Calvin thinks, Louis is not going to go through every record individually to make sure they’re all in the correct place. Fuck that.)

He’s just relocking the door from the outside when his phone buzzes. He shoves his keys in his pocket and answers with a sigh.

“You’ve got perfect timing, you know that?” Louis says, listening to Liam’s soft chuckle on the other end of the line. “It’s fucking creepy. Are you watching me?”

“You don’t want to know the answer to that question.”

He’s right, Louis decides. He really doesn’t want to know what kind of surveillance they run on him every day. “Alright, go on. What do you want?”

He hears Liam take a deep breath. “Can you come to base?”

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose and releases a sigh he didn’t know he had been holding back.

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

  
  


Louis makes it to base in eighteen minutes, slightly sweaty, definitely pink-cheeked. 

“Nice of you to join us,” Zayn teases, kicking out the chair next to him. 

Louis takes a seat, surveying the room. Liam’s called in everyone - Niall, Zayn, Lewis, Shawn... _ Harry _ . “And what is he doing here?”

Liam rolls his eyes and Louis can all but feel Niall’s sigh from across the room. 

“He’s part of the squad,” Liam says. He’s probably tired of giving this lecture by this point, but Louis will not rest until he doesn’t have to deal with Harry Styles as part of his usual routine. “Now-”

“Are you wearing my shirt?” Harry asks, effectively cutting off anything Liam was about to say.

“What? No.” Louis glances down at his chest. Come to think of it, he probably is. He has a vague memory of borrowing it one night he stayed at Harry’s and then never returning it. 

“Alright, guys,” Liam butts in. “We don’t have time today for you guys to pretend like you hate each other.” He ignores Louis’ cry of ‘ _ but we do hate each other! _ ’ and continues on. “We’ve got our next target. I don’t think it’s going to be a simple one, so we need all hands on deck.”

Louis feels a chill up his spine as he takes in the stony expression on Liam’s face. It’s always dangerous, the things they do, and it’s definitely not legal, but he’s never seen Liam look the way he does now. All of his usual playfulness is washed away with something more determined.

“I’m assuming you’ve all heard of Walter Hurst, one of the men running for presidential nomination,” Liam says, typing something on his laptop until his screen is shared onto the large screen mounted on the wall. Walter Hurst’s face pops up, a creepy smile etched on his face as he poses while shaking someone’s hand out of the picture. He’s always given Louis a bad taste and he could never figure out why, horrible politics aside, but he’s assuming Liam is about to tell them.

“So I heard from one of my sources that the FBI has been trying to take him down for years for embezzling money from his campaign donations into his own bank account,” he explains. “But now, it’s just been revealed that he’s been making money by encouraging doctors and pharmaceutical companies to diagnose patients to make more money off of them.”

Their sources are people high up on the inside, people who would rather spill their dirty secrets to Liam on their own terms than have them aired out for everyone to see if the squad forcefully takes them down (Liam usually takes them down anyway). Louis’ never questioned how Liam gets people to rat each other out and confess to anything he needs them to, and he’s not going to ask now. Out of all of them, Louis’ sure Liam has the most secrets. He’s the slowest to reveal anything personal about himself. One time, Niall asked him what his zodiac sign was and Louis thought Liam was going to have a heart attack before he finally revealed himself to be a Virgo. 

“He’s done plenty of other shitty things, as most of our... _ clients _ have. But we’re going to get to him to get the list of doctors and pharmaceutical companies that are paying him. From there, we’ll find everyone on their payroll and take them out. We’ll go until we hit them all or until the FBI decides they want to step in.” Liam pauses, glancing around the room at each of them. “I’ve compiled a folder for each of you to read. It will detail the plans I’ve made and all of the information I know about Hurst and his accomplices.”

Liam hands them each a different color folder. Louis’ is blue, Harry’s green, Niall’s yellow, and Zayn’s violet. These have been their assigned colors from the start, and Louis doesn’t know what would happen if one day Liam decided to shake it up and hand them each a new color folder. There’d probably be riots or something.

Louis opens his folder, thick with literally hundreds of sheets of paper, and takes in the first page. He has no idea how different the information within his folder is from everyone else’s because they’ve never looked into each other’s folders before. Nobody’s ever asked, and this point it’d just be weird, he thinks.

Flipping through the pages, he takes note of the bolder headers.  _ Wife _ .  _ Son. Daughter. Daughter-in-law. Mistress.  _ There are italicized subtitles and all of it makes Louis’ head spin. He doesn’t think he’s ever received a folder so dense. He closes it with a thud.

“Li,” Harry says, his folder still shut on the conference table. “If this is as big as you’re making it out to be, do you really expect us to be able to do all of this by ourselves? We’re not that kind of organization, not really. We just steal money from rich people.”

“We’re going to do as much of it as we can.” Liam shakes his head and clicks to the next slide. It’s a brief ( _ very _ brief) overview of their plan. Louis wonders how he got all of the information from the folders onto such a short slide.

“Okay, so, lay it on us. What’s our plan?” Louis asks. He leans back in his chair and folds his hands together across his stomach, the perfect picture of relaxation. He’s anything but. They’ve never taken on anything of this size.

“Alright, so. Louis, Harry.” Louis and Harry perk their ears up. “I know you’re both normally the icing on the cake, distracting the targets so we can take their money and hand them over to be arrested, but this time you’ve got a few other things to do. Your special assignments are outlined in your folders.”

Louis nods, following along. 

“Each of your first targets is someone that my source has said is crucial to this whole operation going smoothly in any manner. They’re both lawyers, and we need you to gather any information you can from them. Get them drunk, get them loose. That’s the motto, right? It is  _ very  _ important that you do not get caught. Hurst cannot know we are on to him.” Liam fixes them with a stare that could make any man run away his tail between his legs. “Do you hear me?”

Louis nods. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harry do the same. 

“Liam, we will not fuck this up,” Harry promises, and Louis wants to roll his eyes, but he refrains. “What’s next?”

“Well.” Liam takes a deep breath. “You’ve each got your specific details in your folders. I’ve been working on this for quite a while, and it is quite detailed, so it’s probably best if you go over those individually and then ask me if you have any questions.”

Niall hums. He and Zayn are usually the stealthy pieces of the mission, sliding through ducts and moving their bodies in ways Louis could never dream of moving. He’s seen the training they do - he wants no part in it.

Of course, they’re all trained in self-defense and a few fighting moves, but nothing like the way Niall and Zayn are. He’s never met two people who can so easily slide through a crowd without anyone ever noticing them, or drop from a ceiling and climb back up without ever making a sound. The two things that Louis is thankful for are that Liam is his handler and that he doesn’t have to do what Zayn and Niall do. 

Shawn works as Harry’s handler, and Louis’ been lucky enough that Liam usually is his handler for missions. He thinks he’d go insane if he had to listen to Shawn buzzing in his ear while he was trying to get shit done. Sometimes, if Liam is needed doing god knows what else, Lewis will take over, but anyone is better than Shawn. Nothing against him personally, but he’s always talking and he’s from  _ Canada _ . 

“I just say go home and look over this by Friday,” Liam says. “I want each of you to call me when you’ve finished reading through, even if you understand it all. That gives you three days to read it, do any research you need to do, and get back to me. Harry and Louis, your part starts Saturday evening.”

“What are we doing?” Louis asks.

“Hurst is meeting with his lawyers Saturday evening before he goes to some fancy appearance in D.C. From the lawyers’ itinerary that I snatched from both of their phones, it looks like they’ll be going out afterwards to grab drinks. This is your opportunity to get as much information as you can. If you suspect they have any information physically on them, take it. We’ve got to work fast.”

Louis’ head is spinning. For the first time since joining the squad, he thinks he might be in too deep.

Liam dismisses them before Louis can compose himself, and he sits there thinking about what’s in store for him next. He watches Niall, Zayn, and Shawn file out together, laughing about something that Louis didn’t catch.

“Lou, Harry,” Liam says, catching their attention. Louis notes out of the corner of his eye that Harry hasn’t made any effort to leave yet, either.

“Yeah?” Harry responds, eyebrow quirking. 

“I think, at least for this first part, it might be better if you do your research together,” Liam suggests. “These lawyers have to collaborate quite a bit, and I think it’d be beneficial if you were both on the same wavelength. I wouldn’t want one of you finding out something that ends up being crucial to the other, or do something that puts the other in danger.”

“Got it.” Louis nods and finally pushes his chair back from the conference table. It’s the same one they’ve had for years, worn and chipped, but Louis loves it for everything it represents - the squad, family, turning over a new leaf, freedom. 

“Lou, want to come over to mine and get started?” Harry asks, falling into step beside him as they exit the building. Their headquarters are located in the backroom of an art supply shop, owned by one of the higher-ups in the organization. It’s as good a front as any, Louis assumes.

“I do not,” he answers. “I kind of want to go home and hang out with my cat.”

“Oh, so you have a cat?” Harry’s face perks up. He’s always looking for an opportunity to find out anything about Louis’ personal life. “What’s their name?”

“Her name is Petunia.” Louis keeps his face straight, all the while thinking about how Cliff is probably missing him right about now. As if he would ever own a cat named Petunia.

Harry’s face just lights up even more, as if he’s  _ excited _ . “Can I come meet her?”

“Absolutely not.” Louis stops in the middle of the sidewalk and crosses his arms. “No way. You know the rules.”

“Right.” Harry nods, mouth forming a straight line. “So do you want to come over to mine or not?”

“No.” 

Louis will not do it. Today is the day he says no and  _ means it _ .

  
  


Louis wakes up in Harry’s bed, pulls a pillow over his face, and screams into the warm fabric. One day he’ll say no and mean it, but apparently that day is not today.


	2. Chapter 2

When he first started sleeping with Harry, Louis would go home right away, absolutely refusing to stay the night. Throughout the years, he started relaxing and allowing himself to stay the night. It was late, he always reasoned with himself. What’s the point in walking home to sleep when he could just stay right here right now?

He’s never, not once, stayed past the time he woke up in the morning.

Until now.

Louis tried to go home, he  _ did _ , but Harry brought up the fact that they should probably spend the day researching and collaborating and then offered up his fancy shower and Louis couldn’t say no. 

So that finds Louis grumpily taking the fresh clothes from Harry’s smug hands and stomping his way to the bathroom. He ignores all of Harry’s offers to teach him how to work the shower, sure it will only end in shower sex and they do not have time for that, as much as he has to fight his own mind against it.

When he’s freshly washed and in Harry’s clothes that are just big enough on him to give him a cozy feeling, he pads down the hallway barefoot to the kitchen. He’s led by the inviting and unmistakable smell of bacon cooking, sizzling in the pan as Harry stands over it, bare chested and humming to himself. Louis stands for a moment, taking in the sight, and there’s a feeling in his chest that he can’t name - something warm that he pushes away, too busy to unpack what that can mean.

“Can you sing?” Louis asks. He crosses his arms across his chest and leans back against the island countertop in the middle of the room.

“Ah.” Harry spins around, spatula in hand poised like a microphone. “I was wondering when you were going to say something.”

“I hate that you’re also trained to be aware of everything going on in the room,” Louis says with an eye roll. “It makes it very hard to sneak up on you.”

Harry laughs quietly, right dimple barely poking out as he spins back around to take the bacon off the pan. Louis notices a bowl of pancake mix off to the side and has to push away that warm feeling in his chest again.

“To answer your question, I like to think I have a decent voice,” Harry says. “I used to want to be a singer, you know.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Well now you do.”

Well. Louis can’t argue with that.

  
  


The rest of the morning finds Louis sprawled out on Harry’s couch, stomach full of blueberry pancakes and bacon, combing through paper after paper in his folder. Intermittently, he googles something relevant on Harry’s laptop and scribbles it down on a notebook Harry’s given him, before he goes back to reading. 

Once his eyes start to go cross-eyed and he develops a headache, he suggests they take a break. 

“We can call Liam tonight,” Harry says, sliding his own folder across the floor, creating a distance between himself and the stack of papers he’s been combing through all morning. “Let him know our plan.”

“ _ Our  _ plan?” Louis asks, scoffing. He kicks out a leg to see if he can reach Harry’s folder, but just barely misses. He doesn’t miss Harry’s eyeroll, though. “We each have our own plans- there is no ‘our’ plan.”

“Louis, don’t be difficult.” Harry sounds tired, and Louis almost feels bad for how much shit he gives the man on a regular basis. But. He also gives him really good sex, so he doesn’t feel too bad.

“I’m not being difficult.”

“You’re always like this.”

“I am not  _ always  _ like this.”

“Correction: you’re always like this with  _ me _ .”

Louis can’t argue with that, so he doesn’t. He hums quietly, and lays back, staring at the ceiling. There’s a watermark in the corner that he almost points out, but he can’t be bothered.

“Would you like to tell me our plan, then?” Louis asks. He wishes he didn’t know exactly what Harry’s smug face looks like.

“Our files say that they’ll be arriving around eight, so I think we should get to the bar around seven-thirty to secure the perfect table so that we can make sure we have a good view of the whole bar, no matter where they end up sitting.”

“Good start, good start,” Louis mumbles. “Continue.”

“I’ll send Jonathon a drink, or something, which will catch their attention. Hopefully it prompts them to join us, or at least come over and turn me down. From there, we charm.”

Louis snorts. “I think you highly overestimate how much of a charmer you are.”

“I’m a dream,” Harry deadpans.

“Only in  _ your  _ dreams are you a dream.”

“May I continue?” Harry fixes him with a look, and Louis bites back any more comments he wants to make, nodding for Harry to go on. “Alright, so they join us. We flirt. With them, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Louis rolls his eyes at the ceiling.

Harry just ignores him and continues on with the plan, conversations to avoid, conversations to bring up, and their covers, as if Louis hasn’t read the same information he has. As if this isn’t the same information they’ve been discussing for hours.

“I should probably go home,” Louis says instead of all the snippy things he wants to say instead. “Same time tomorrow?” 

“You could stay the night,” Harry suggests, so just like Louis knew he would. 

“My cat.”

Harry nods like it’s something he’s considered. “What do you do with her when you’re gone for so long?”

“My neighbors take care of her. I think she likes my next door neighbor, Perrie, better than me now.” His next door neighbor’s name is James and he’s allergic to all animals with fur. 

“Right.” 

Louis can see him biting the inside of his cheek, obviously thinking about whether or not it’s worth the fight for once. He must decide it’s not because he pushes himself off of the ground and dusts off his butt, extending a hand to Louis to help him from the couch. 

Louis takes it gratefully and goes to push past him to the door, but Harry stops him with a hand on his waist.

“A goodbye kiss? I don’t even have morning breath this time.” Harry does, what Louis assumes, are supposed to be puppy eyes, begging Louis to say yes.

“I actually didn’t see you brush your teeth this morning, so I cannot confirm that’s true.” Louis shrugs, pretending to feel bad. “Another time.”

* * *

The last few days of the week pass similarly, with Louis coming over in the afternoon or after he gets off work at the record store, pouring through pages and pages of research with Harry. They also have a conference call with Liam one of the nights, and all three of them ignore the fact that it can’t really be a conference call if Liam only had to call Louis’ phone to reach both of them.

It’s only when they’re getting ready Saturday evening that Louis realizes it’s the longest time they’ve ever spent with each other without sleeping together. He shakes off the feeling of familiarity that comes with Harry’s hands as he helps Louis straighten his fringe. 

“You look handsome,” Harry compliments, stepping back to admire Louis. “I’ve always loved this outfit on you.”

Louis scrunches his face up in faux disgust, wrinkling his nose and biting his tongue. He feels sick in his stomach when Harry compliments him like this, when the compliments are natural and familiar and like maybe he’s thought them a thousand times before saying them out loud. (And maybe he’s not sick to his stomach, he’s just swallowed a lot of butterflies, but that’s just another thing he doesn’t think about when it comes to his relationship with Harry).

It’s just black jeans and a band t-shirt with a color-blocked windbreaker thrown over it, but it’s his go to “casual” outfit for missions like these. It’s also his favorite outfit to wear to the bar even when off duty, easy to remove the extra layer when he starts to warm up from the dancing and the alcohol. 

“If you’re fishing for a compliment, you’ve come to the wrong place,” Louis retorts. “I think you look like a mess.”

Harry snorts, like he knows Louis’ a liar, and runs his fingers through his own hair. 

“It’d hurt me more if I knew you meant it,” he says. He doesn’t bother waiting for Louis to say anything else before he’s grabbing a denim jacket off the back of a chair in the corner of his bedroom, leaving Louis standing in the middle of the room, struggling to come up with something witty to respond. 

Louis recollects himself and follows Harry down the hallway, ignoring the photos on the wall that he has memorized, and ignoring the way this mission seems so different from all of their others already. He isn’t sure if it’s the extra amount of time they’ve spent together, just the two of them, or that the weight behind their words to each other has changed, but he knows this mission won’t be like anything they’ve ever tackled before.

“Nervous?” Harry asks, swinging the door open and gesturing for Louis to exit before him. 

“Not nervous, I don’t think.” Louis shrugs. He isn’t sure how to put it into words, but it seems Harry understands him, face softening as he nods. 

“I’ll be right there.”

“Right.” Louis doesn’t say anything else, just watches Harry lock the door behind them and prepares himself for the chill in the evening air as they walk to the bar. 

It’s not as bad out as he had expected, but he can still feel the way the wind is picking up his cheeks and messing with the fringe he had spent so much time styling. He sighs and resigns himself to his fate, tucking his hands deep into his pockets and basking in the quiet before they reach the bar. Louis’ never been to this particular bar, but Harry told him earlier that it’s one of his favorites in the city.

“It won’t be after tonight,” Louis had joked, and at first Harry had laughed, but then he sort of sighed and a resigned look danced across his features. Louis knew that look - it’s the same one he has to try and hide any time someone he really likes calls him by a name that’s not actually his or when his mother calls and asks about his life.

Now, they just walk in silence. There’s nothing left for them to go over in terms of the plan, and should anything go awry, they’ve got each other. And Shawn and Liam in their ears, ready to step in if need be. Louis’ not sure how all of the technology works, but there have been quite a few times that he’s misspoken during a mission like this and almost blown his cover, but Liam has saved him with something hissed through his earpiece. 

The bar is already busy, loud even before Harry opens the door for them, warm light coming from the wide windows as Louis takes notes of the people packed inside. Harry whispers something in his ear about a table in the back, and Louis nods, following him easily. 

The table wobbles when they sit down, obviously lopsided, and Louis sighs. It’s a small thing to be annoyed by, but they can’t move because there’s no more tables and this one gives them the perfect view of both the entrance and the bar and almost every other seat in the whole place. He’ll have to deal with it.

“Charlie,” Louis says, smiling sweetly. “Would you like to get me a drink?”

Harry grimaces, whether at the name or Louis’ faux-politeness, but stands up anyway. “Sure thing, Luke.”

Louis watches Harry stride confidently across the bar, pushing politely past the people crowded there. It doesn’t take long for him to flag down the attention of one of the bartenders and Louis rolls his eyes; he’s not sure how Harry can find it in himself to flirt so much with people he doesn’t have to. If it’s not for a mission, Louis is not going to pretend to be nice to someone. Besides, this type of lifestyle isn’t conducive to a relationship. Louis doesn’t pretend otherwise, and he figures Harry would be better off if he did the same.

A drink sliding across the table in front of him brings him from his thoughts, and Louis wrinkles his nose in disgust at the brightly colored liquid in front of him.

“What the hell did you get me?” Louis asks. He raises an eyebrow and takes in Harry’s smug expression. “You know my drink order.”

“I thought you would want to try something different. Sure, Louis might like a pint, but Luke really likes fruity cocktails.”

Louis wants to punch him. Louis wants to -

“William?”

Louis takes his eyes away from Harry’s punchable face and takes in Ronnie, the barista from the coffee shop, standing next to the table, hovering uncertainly. 

“I thought that was you.” She smiles brightly. “Do you live around here? I come here all the time and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here.”

Louis forces a smile, bites the inside of his cheeks, and curses the day he was born. 

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m just here with a friend. We’re supposed to be meeting some people.” He hopes she takes the hint.

“Ah.” Her own grin wavers. “Well. I guess I’ll let you guys go, then. But. Um. I’ll see at the coffee shop?”

“Sure,” he says with a nod. She walks away and he mourns the loss of his favorite iced lattes. He’ll have to find a new place to go on his way home from Harry’s, since he can’t go back there now. He keeps the circles of his life so distinctly separate from each other that any time it seems like they might overlap, he has to change up his routine. Maybe he’s being paranoid, but he doesn’t like to take chances. 

“Who was that?” Harry asks, having stayed silent the whole interaction. Any hint of joking has left his face, eyes dark. 

“Oh. Ronnie. She’s a barista at a coffee shop I go to when I leave yours,” Louis answers without thinking. He immediately regrets it, of course, because Harry’s face lights up like he’s learned a secret and Louis supposes he has. If he can figure out what coffee shops are within walking distance of his apartment, he can probably figure out which one Ronnie works at and then the direction Louis walks home. If it were any other person in the world, Louis wouldn’t expect any of that to happen. But. Harry is an alien. 

“She seemed into you,” Harry says, and Louis notes that his eyes still have a bit of darkness in them, left behind, something that Louis can’t quite explain. 

He snorts, finally giving in and taking a sip of whatever drink Harry’s gotten for him. Just as he suspected, it’s  _ awful _ , but he’s a pro at hiding his facial expressions, so he swallows it down and takes another large sip. 

“I’m gay, if you didn’t know that,” he retorts. “That’s one thing I don’t mind sharing with you about myself.”

“Does she know that?”

“Jesus, Harry, what does it matter?”

“I’m making conversation.” Harry shrugs, but the darkness is gone from his eyes, something like satisfaction pulling at his lips. He brings his own drink to his mouth, liquid bright orange and unnatural looking, swallowing half it down in one gulp.

“Easy, tiger,” Louis warns. “We’re not supposed to be the ones getting drunk here.”

“Hmm.” Harry hums. He seems to notice something out of the corner of his eye, body shifting just slightly enough to get a better angle for viewing the entrance. “Speaking of. Clark and Jonathon have joined us.”

Louis doesn’t need to turn his body to spot the lawyers entering further into the room, ties gone from their necks and top buttons undone on their shirts. He watches as they pick a table not far from their own, just a small group of college students separating them, and takes note that they hang their jackets over the back of their chairs.

“Can’t be anything too important in those, then,” Louis says. He takes another sip of his drink, convinced it gets worse each time. “They wouldn’t be so reckless.”

Harry nods, agreeing. “I wonder if there’s something tucked into either of their pants.”

Louis sighs and closes his eyes, praying to whoever above that he does not have to make out with some lawyer named  _ Clark _ tonight just to feel him up and see if there’s anything in his pants, but God has always liked to play jokes on him like that.

He doesn’t bother saying anything else, just follows Harry’s lead and finishes off his drink. He’s given himself a two drink limit for the night, already needing to be extra sharp to make sure Ronnie doesn’t ruin this for him by acting like she knows him. He takes a moment to mourn the normal life he could have had, where he wouldn’t have to keep track of ten different names he goes by and just as many backstories about himself. It gets harder by the day to tell which version is the real version of himself.

There’s a version of himself in each of his covers, enough that he doesn’t get so lost in the lies, but he can’t help but feel himself slip away. With each lie he tells, he realizes how much he misses real human connection. He misses the intimacy of someone  _ knowing  _ him. The best he’s got is Harry, and he can’t even be sure that’s Harry’s real name or if anything Louis knows about him is true. 

But-

Unfortunately Harry knows him best of anyone in his life right now, and Louis uses that to keep himself from spiraling out, drink empty in his hand as he makes eye contact with Clark from across the bar. 

He does his best to smile enticingly, but that’s one look he’s never quite gotten down. Harry says he’s better at ‘bedroom eyes’ than he is at ‘seductive smiling.’ Louis doesn’t trust his opinion on anything, anyway.

“They’re off to the bar,” Harry notes. “I’ll get our second round. Make conversation. Invite them back.”

“I know the plan,” Louis hisses, facial expression never wavering, smile only softening into something that feels more natural. He’s not sure how successful he is, but at least his face doesn’t feel like it’s going to split in half any longer.

Harry doesn’t bother with a response, just pushes his chair out and stalks across the bar, a determined look on his face. 

Louis tries not to stare while Harry gets their drinks, but he’s not sure what else there is to do. Liam’s been strangely silent in his ear, and he doesn’t want to waste his phone battery by mindlessly playing a game. Instead, he sits and digs at the wood of the table, a majority of it already scratched away by the countless people who have sat in his spot before.

“Luke, I’ve got us some friends.”

Louis whips his head up, and Harry’s standing there, Clark and Jonathon behind him. Maybe in another life, if they weren’t two horrible criminals (or helping a horrible criminal out, at least), Louis would probably find them attractive. It’s not too much of a stretch to see himself going home with Clark. Although, he imagines the sex would be mediocre, but can’t judge a book by its cover.

“Hey, I’m Luke,” he says, kicking out one of the extra chairs out with his foot. He gestures for them to take a seat, and they don’t even hesitate before sitting down, metal scraping across the wooden floor. 

“Louis,” Liam mumbles in his ear, “please do remember to be careful. These men could be dangerous.”

In his mind, Louis laughs and rolls his eyes. These men couldn’t hurt anyone. He can already tell they’re just a step above bumbling idiots. Unfortunately, all he can actually do is grin and pretend to laugh at some joke that Clark’s said, but that Louis doesn’t quite understand.

“So what do you do for a living?” Clark asks, turning his body away from where Harry and Jonathon are in their own conversation. 

“I’m a zookeeper,” Louis answers. Technically, Liam had told him to pick an occupation that was forgettable, but Louis never claimed to be good at following directions.

“Oh, really?” Clark raises one eyebrow. 

“Yeah.” 

Louis’ having a really hard time forcing himself to pay attention to the conversation at hand when Harry is being so  _ obvious _ with his flirting across the table. He’s caressing Jonathon’s arm and  _ giggling _ and Louis hasn’t heard a word that Clark’s said in probably two minutes.

“Are you even listening to me?” Clark finally asks, going so far as to snap his fingers in front of Louis’ face.

_ No _ . “Yes.”

“What was I saying?”

“You were talking about how incredible of a lawyer you are,” Louis guesses. 

“Your words, not mine.” Clark flashes him a sinister grin. “I’m not supposed to talk about it much, but I’ve got a really high profile client.”

“Oh?” Louis perks up at that. “Wanna tell me more about it?”

“Well…” Clark trails off, glancing across the table at Jonathon. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, but Jonathon’s working for him too.”

“Would I know who your client is? I love celebrities.” Louis figures playing dumb is his best bet.

Clark shakes his head. “I wouldn’t say my client is a celebrity.”

“What kind of high profile are we talking about?”

Clark definitely isn’t supposed to be talking to Louis about any of this, but he’s catching on that this might be his trick to lure people in. He’s too boring, so he’s got to talk about the secrets from his job in order to get people to sleep with him. 

“Politics.” Clark pauses, obviously waiting for a reaction.

Louis gives in, aware that he has a job to do that he can’t really afford to fuck up. He gasps, overdramatic and loud, but it seems to do the trick. A wicked grin spreads across Clark’s feature. He leans in another inch, and Louis can smell his breath, drenched in cheap beer and whatever bar food they had been snacking on before joining their table.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Harry stand up and walk off hand in hand with Jonathon to another corner of the bar. He knows Harry wouldn’t leave without letting him know in some way, or Liam would let him know through his ear piece, but he can’t help the quick spike of panic that runs through his veins before he gets himself under control. 

“I’ve got to build a case for a real shady guy,” he continues. “But that’s all I’m going to tell you.”

“Please, you can’t leave me hanging like this,” Louis begs, widening his eyes. He reaches across the small space between them to rest his hand on Clark’s forearm. “Just give me something else.”

“I could be persuaded to tell you more.”

Louis crawls his fingers up Clark’s arm, trying to focus on the softness of the fabric as opposed to how creeped out he feels by this whole interaction. Clark is sweaty, greasy, and not at all his type. No matter how often he does this, it doesn’t get easier to just grin and bear it.

“Just one last thing.” Louis lets his hand drop to Clark’s knee, squeezing tightly. It gets the desired reaction, and he leans in to whisper, “What convinces a guy like you to build a case for such a bad guy?”

He lets his lips brush against Clark’s ear with every word, and it’s hook, line, and sink. Clark slides a hand on the inside of Louis’ windbreaker and rests it on his waist. 

From the angle he’s tilted at now, he can see Harry in the back corner, pressing Jonathon up against the wall outside of the bathroom. He’s never seen Harry in action this close up. He’s not sure he likes the front row seat, and he can feel his nose twitch. He slides his attention back over to Clark, feeling his skin crawl at the look he’s given.

“Money,” Clark finally answers, and Louis’ almost forgotten he even asked a question. “Money could convince a man like me to do a lot of things.”

Louis knew the answer, of course. He’s been in this business long enough to know that money is  _ always  _ the motivator.

“The money’s that good?” Louis asks. He runs his index finger along the inside of Clark’s thigh. When he reaches Clark’s crotch, he diverts from his hand’s path and settles it on his hip. He runs his thumb over the smooth fabric.

Unable to stop himself, his eyes dart to Harry again. He can’t be sure because it’s dark in the corner, but Louis’ pretty sure they’re making out. He knew that Harry was way more hands on than Louis ever chose to be, which was half of the reason Louis had hated him at the beginning. When this all started, he thought that he was  _ better _ than Harry because he never had to kiss anyone to get them to spill their secrets. Now that’s not even true. 

Clark catches him staring, tightening his grip on Louis’ waist.

“Is this some kind of foreplay for you guys?” he asks, but there’s no anger like Louis would have expected.

Clark doesn’t even know how well he’s hit the nail on the head. It  _ is _ some kind of foreplay for them, but that doesn’t keep the taste of bile out of his mouth as he watches Harry get groped across the room. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it, sweetheart,” Louis says. He leans back, removing his hand from Clark’s thigh. 

“Oh yeah?” Clark raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees. He pushes his chair away from the table and stands. “I would never go home with a guy like you, anyway.”

  
  


Outside, Louis is thankful he’s worn the windbreaker. His body feels hot all over, but the cool air has goosebumps rising on his arms underneath the sleeves of the jacket. He can hear Liam ask him what he’s doing in his ear, but he can’t respond just yet. 

He pulls out a cigarette and slips into the small alleyway next to the bar. Lighting it up, he finally responds to Liam that he just wanted some fresh air.

“Let Harry know for me, yeah?” he says, and Liam agrees before leaving him alone again.

The cigarette stops his hands from shaking, but he still feels like he’s burning up from the inside out. Just as he’s about to light another, Harry turns down the alleyway and leans against the brick next to him.

“Did you find out anything important?” he asks, slipping the lighter out of Louis’ hand before he can light the cigarette. “I didn’t even notice you leave.”

“Of course you didn’t. You had your tongue too far down Jonathon’s throat.”

Harry hums. “Yeah. I really need to go home and brush my teeth now.”

“Do you do that every time?”

“Do you want me to answer?” Harry counters. “Isn’t it enough to know that I got his flash drive?”

“You got his flash drive?” Louis widens his eyes. He finally tucks the unlit cigarette back into the box and the box into his pocket. 

“He was so drunk he didn’t notice,” Harry says. He’s proud, smirk spread his lips, dimples set deep in his cheeks. 

Louis wants to celebrate their victory, but all he can think about is why Harry’s lips are so red and swollen, why his shirt’s untucked, why his hair is a mess. Something that Louis refuses to call jealousy swirls in his chest, suddenly making it hard to breathe.

“I stole Clark’s wallet.” Louis had almost forgotten to tell him. His thoughts feel like they’re traveling through fog on a dark night in order to come to the surface. “I feel like I need to disinfect my whole body, though.”

“Want to come disinfect your body at my house?” Harry waggles his eyebrows. 

“I would rather do anything  _ but  _ that. Think I might actually go back inside and invite Clark ‘round to mine, if this is my only other option.”

Harry doesn’t even pretend to look offended.

  
  


“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Louis squeezes his thighs around Harry’s hips and closes his eyes. He’s not sure how much longer he can do this, riding Harry agonizingly slow, torturing them both.

“Gonna make it, baby?” Harry teases, grabbing a handful of Louis’ ass. 

“Thought I told you to shut up,” Louis hisses through his teeth. 

“I’m not very good at taking directions.”

“Obviously.” Despite their situation, Louis still rolls his eyes. 

Without warning, Harry flips their position, trapping Louis underneath his body. Somehow, his thighs stay around Harry’s hips, his feet now resting on Harry’s back. Louis uses his grip to pull him closer, feeling the way their skin glides and sticks, tacky with sweat. 

Louis doesn’t even try to stop the gasp falling from his lips, throwing his head back against the pillow.

“Gonna let me fuck you like you deserve now, baby?”

“Quit the porno talk and just fuck me.” Louis loves it, though. He feels a spark of heat travel through his body as Harry starts thrusting, hard and fast like the only way Louis will let him. 

“As if I would ever do this with anyone else,” Harry whispers in his ear, breath hot against Louis’ skin. “It’s you, baby. It’s you that gets to do this with me.”

His words cross a line they’ve never even approached before. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like two people who hate each other fucking because they have no other options. It feels  _ real _ . 

It sets Louis’ skin on fire, igniting everywhere their bodies are touching. He isn’t sure if he’s going to survive this time, digging his nails the best he can into Harry’s back, just doing anything to ground himself to the moment. 

Harry gets his fingers tangled in Louis’ hair and tugs, forcing Louis’ eyes open until he’s staring back into Harry’s. So close to the edge, it’s too much. He’s vulnerable, fragile, and open. He knows it’s written clear as day on his face, can see the understanding on Harry’s expression.

“I don’t want to do it with anyone else, baby,” Harry continues, and Louis knows he  _ means  _ it. He knows Harry better than anyone else in his life, and he can tell when Harry’s telling the truth, and Louis can see the truth written all over his face. “I don’t want anyone else.”

Louis comes between them, untouched, back arching high. Harry fucks him through it, just a few more thrusts before he’s coming in the condom and holding Louis close.

Breathing ragged, Louis uses both hands to push Harry off of his chest. He goes easily, rolling over onto the other half of the bed. He leaves his hand extended in Louis’ direction, fingertips just barely brushing the skin of Louis’ arm.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Louis says, staring at the ceiling.

Once the words are out of his mouth, Louis rolls off the bed and rushes around the room to find his clothing. He ignores Harry’s confused questions and his begging for Louis to just stay the night and get some sleep. If he stays the night, Louis isn’t sure what would happen. Would he tell Harry that they can’t do this anymore because Louis can’t keep this professional any longer? Because Louis went and fucked around and might have caught feelings? That the longer this goes on the more danger this puts both of them in?

Harry follows him all the way to the front door, and Louis isn’t even listening to him any longer. He can’t, if he wants to make it out of the door. He grabs Louis’ hand just as he’s past the doorway, so close to escaping.

“What’s going on, Lou?” he asks, and for a second he seems so small. He’s not the confident Harry that Louis’ grown to know so well over the years. He’s unsure, shoulders hunched and eyes wide as he scans Louis’ face.

“I just think it’s for the best if we stop whatever this-” he waves a hand in between them, “-is.”

Harry’s face hardens and he finally drops Louis’ hand. He steps back and grips the door. “Whatever ‘this’ is?” 

Louis nods, but it’s getting harder and harder to keep eye contact. What would be the harm if he just went back inside, pretended he hated being held by Harry, and fell asleep in a bed he knew all too well?

“I think you’re right,” Harry says instead.

The sound of the door slamming behind him has Louis wincing, trance broken. It’s for the best, he thinks as he starts his walk home. He ignores the voice that tells him if this was truly for the best, it wouldn’t hurt so badly.

  
  


Coming home is not as satisfactory as it should be. Clifford is happy to see him, tail wagging and crawling right into Louis’ lap as soon as he sits down on the couch. He scratches mindlessly behind Cliff’s ears as the image of Harry’s hurt expression plays in his mind. 

He tries to tell himself that it doesn’t matter - he and Harry aren’t  _ friends _ . They can barely stand each other on a good day. Just because they sleep together doesn’t mean anything.

Unfortunately, Louis’ not so sure that’s the truth.

Maybe at the beginning, there could have been some truth to it, but now? They’ve spent years building up trust they had with no one but each other, partners in almost every sense. As hard as Louis might try, he can’t lie to himself any longer. He knows what everyone sees when they look at the pair of them - two people in denial, afraid to admit their feelings. 

And  _ maybe  _ his rivalry with Harry is a little more one-sided than he cared to admit. Harry doesn’t seem to care as much, and usually laughs at Louis’ snide comments. Even when they had first met and Louis very obviously disliked him, he just seemed to let it roll off his back. 

That’s what truly pissed Louis off the most, at the beginning. He was so  _ sure _ Harry’s lackadaisical attitude was going to get them both injured. Over the years that had proven to be untrue, but it was so hard to just unlearn the way he acted around Harry. Louis had spent years building up these walls, solidifying the foundation with sarcastic remarks and passionate sex disguised as convenient more than anything else. 

Curled in bed, Clifford tucked comfortably at his feet, he can’t stop thinking about the look on Harry’s face just before he shut the door. Like he was genuinely  _ hurt _ . Louis tries to convince himself that Harry couldn’t actually have been upset, but deep down, he knows that’s not true. 

Along the way, their wires got twisted, things became complicated, and this was bound to happen. If he’d allowed himself to think about it for more than a few seconds at a time, he could have obviously pointed out the signs. Small things, like letting Harry cook him his favorite meal after a particularly long mission, or that time they fell asleep without even having sex. 

If he’d just paid attention to these things, maybe he’d have realized ‘whatever this was’ sooner. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to watch the way Harry’s face hardened and had the door shut in his face. 

But.

It’s better this way, Louis knows. Better to get hurt now than later, or when it could hurt them even worse. What if he let Harry in and things didn’t work out? He’s not quite ready to give up his life stealing from billionaires and giving it away, but how could he continue to be Harry’s partner? What if his feelings clouded his mind enough that he let Harry get hurt? 

So.

It’s better this way.


	3. Chapter 3

Louis’ alarm pulls him from a restless night’s sleep way too early the next morning. He slams his hand around his bed until his fingers find his phone and he snoozes the alarm, settling in for another nine minutes of peace. 

He doesn’t get nine minutes, though, because someone is  _ calling  _ him and it’s fucking  _ seven in the morning _ and-

It’s Harry.

Louis doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t give himself a minute to second guess answering the phone, picking it up and barely exhaling some form of greeting.

“I just wanted to make sure you were awake,” Harry explains. “We have that meeting with Liam in an hour and I know you get grumpy if you don’t have time to have a cup of tea before you have to do anything this early in the morning, so.”

Louis can’t see him, but he knows Harry’s probably shrugging on the end of the line. He clears his throat, thick with sleep and something else. “Uh. Thanks.”

“Yeah.” And then he hangs up and Louis’ left flopping back against his pillows, wide awake now. 

He allows himself the almost eight minutes of peace before his snoozed alarm goes off, loud enough that Clifford heaves a sigh and jumps from the end of the bed, off to find a more serene room to fall back asleep in. Louis scrambles to shut it off, a sign that he should start his day. Harry had been right - he does need a cup of tea before he’s awake enough to do anything before nine in the morning.

An hour later, a travel mug of tea cupped in his hands, he locks the door to his apartment and begins strolling to the location Liam had texted him. It’s supposedly a safe house, according to Liam, and it’s only fifteen minutes from his own apartment. 

It’s an unassuming townhouse, three stories of windows and a beautiful red brick. The door swings open before he even has to knock, Liam’s face peeped around the navy door. 

“Harry’s almost here,” he says, shutting the door behind them. 

The house is furnished, and if Louis didn’t know any better, he’d be convinced that a family lives in it. There are paintings and photos lining the hallway leading to the living room, and Louis doesn’t ask whose the people are. It’s for the best if he doesn’t know, probably. Not even thirty seconds later, Liam is swinging the door open again, and Harry steps inside easily.

“Perfect,” Liam says, clapping his hands together. “We can head up the stairs. There’s an office on the third floor that I’ve already set up for us.”

Harry silently gestures for him to lead the way, following easily and pointedly avoiding meeting Louis’ gaze. 

That’s fine. Louis can do the whole silent treatment thing. Louis can take whatever Harry decides to throw at him. Harry forgets that Louis’ the one who started this whole rivalry thing - he doesn’t mind a bit of tension between them.

The curtains in the office are drawn tight, and the room is dark when Louis walks in. Liam flips on a light switch, and Louis sees what he’s keeping so secret.

The whole room is covered in sticky notes, sheets of paper, and other nonsensical things taped to the walls. Liam has not held anything back, Louis realizes, as he squints and reads a post-it about when Hurst’s next doctor's appointment is. 

“Do you really think we need to know when Hurst is having his next prostate exam?” Louis asks, half-joking. He’s sure that if it’s up on the wall, it’s important.

“Yeah, actually,” Liam answers. “We think he might be scheduling doctor’s appointments as a cover up.”

“Oh.” Louis decides to shut up, then.

“So, I know you both have some things that you managed to grab from your targets.” Liam holds out a hand, expectant, not continuing until the flash drive and the wallet are placed in his open palm. “Perfect. I’m sure the flash drive will be encrypted, so that’s something I’ll start on as soon as we leave here today. The wallet probably doesn’t have much in it, but you never know. An interesting choice of things to take, though.”

Louis shrugs. “I couldn’t feel anything else in his pockets.”

Liam doesn’t seem too bothered, either way.

“I know you’ve both read the folders,” Liam continues, and Louis groans. Of course they’ve read the folders. They know the plan inside and out. This isn’t either of their first rodeos. Harry stays silent next to him, face determined. “Louis, enough. Anyway. Fuck the folders.”

“ _ What _ ?” That garners a reaction out of Harry, face pulling together tightly. “What do you mean, fuck the folders?”

“I’ve reworked the plan,” Liam says, like it’s that simple. It’s  _ never _ that simple. 

“Why?” Louis asks. “What changed?”

“We’ve got a few more sources. And this thing is a lot bigger than we could have ever predicted.”

“How big?” Louis isn’t sure he actually wants to know.

“Just. We may need you to cover the same kind of bases that Niall and Zayn usually cover.”

“Like. Sneaking around?” Louis pulls his eyebrows together. “I’m shit at that.”

“You’re better than Bambi legs here.” Liam raises his eyebrows, daring Louis to challenge the statement. “We need Harry to get some information from a financial advisor that we hadn’t originally known about. She has two phones, and we think one is a burner that she usually uses specifically for Hurst. It never leaves her person, and we’ve been tailing her for a month now. It’s quite literally always in her hand.”

“And what do I need to do?” Louis asks. “Can’t Harry just do what he always does?”

“Harry will do what he always does, kind of.”

“Liam, can you just spit it out? I don’t enjoy guessing games.”

“So since it never leaves her person, we need you to sneak into the hotel room and steal it while she and Harry are... _ preoccupied _ . Seeing as this might be the only time that she lets her guard down even marginally, we have to jump at this opportunity.” 

Louis is starting to get it, but he isn’t sure why he has to be the one to steal the phone. He says as much to Liam, while Harry continues to stay quiet and unhelpful. 

Liam sighs and speaks again, slower this time, like he’s talking to a child. Louis tries not to get annoyed. 

“Niall and Zayn have another place that I need them to be, so. That leaves you. While you’re not the  _ best _ , you’re better than Harry at being stealthy.”

Louis snorts. “Harry doesn’t even know the meaning of the word.” He pretends he doesn’t feel the heat of Harry’s stare on his profile. 

“Right. Well. So I need Harry to distract her and you to grab the phone without getting caught. Do you think you can manage that?” Liam asks.

“No.” And Louis’  _ serious _ , but Liam doesn’t seem to think so because he just throws his head back and laughs. 

“For the most part, the rest of the plan stays the same,” Liam continues on. “I need you, Louis, to head to one of the doctors offices and see what you can find. I’ve got you an appointment scheduled for Wednesday morning at nine. Harry, during this time I need you to meet with the CEO of this pharmaceutical company.” He hands over a sheet of paper with dark ink smudged all over. 

“What kind of things should I be looking for?” Louis asks. This is different than their normal tasks, much more in-depth and with a lot more at stake. He finds himself more nervous than he has been in years about any of his assignments. 

“Each of the staff have a keycard that allows them access to files on company computers.” Liam hands Louis his own sheet of paper, outlining the plan. At the top, he’s written ‘use in place of pages 6-8.’ “I need you to swipe a keycard to bring back to me so Niall and Zayn can sneak in at night and access the computers for me.”

“What do you think is on the computers?” 

“Patient records, for starters. But seeing as Hurst has two physicians listed as his primary care doctor, we think that one of them is just a cover. Or both.”

Louis rocks from his heels to his toes. “Are you sure we can handle this?”

“You’ve got no choice,” Liam says firmly. “Finish the job, and then you can have whatever freak out you’re trying not to have right now.”

He doesn’t keep them around for much longer, just goes through a few of the more minor details before kicking them out so he can go over the flash drive. Louis silently follows Harry down the stairs, unsure of how to break the tension.

Harry doesn’t stop at the bottom of the stairs, just goes for the door handle to leave, and Louis panics.

“Shouldn’t we talk?” he blurts out.

Harry turns, puzzled expression on his face. “Why should we talk?”

“Because, like.” Louis is scrambling. “Tomorrow night you’re going to have to put your complete trust in me not to blow your cover.”

“Oh, I trust you,” Harry says, and Louis feels his shoulders relax. They don’t stay relaxed for too long because he continues, “I trust you not to let me get killed. But that’s the extent of this relationship, as you have made abundantly clear.”

“I-” Louis cuts himself off. The smart thing to do is not argue about it. “Right. You’re right.”

“Not like you to give up so easily.”

“Maybe I’m sick of arguing.”

“What is going on here, Louis?” Harry sounds tired, but his face still holds anger. “You say you don’t like me but the way you act says anything but.”

“I-”

“And I just.” Harry puffs his cheeks and sighs, the fight visibly leaving his body. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t do whatever this is any more.” Harry motions between them. 

“Oh, so it’s fine when you say it?”

“I’m just using your words. Maybe it’ll get through to you.” Harry picks at his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger, and Louis can see how hurt he is, seeming small in a way Louis hasn’t seen on him before. 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Louis admits. 

It’s the wrong thing to say apparently, and Harry’s face hardens again.

“See you tomorrow. Try not to fuck that up, too.” 

He leaves without another word, and for the second time in twenty-four hours, Harry Styles has slammed a door in his face. 

* * *

Louis goes through the motions of getting ready for the night, dressing himself in thick black leggings and a black t-shirt. He doesn’t even bother giving himself a once over before he drops Clifford off at one of his neighbor’s for the night. Clifford loves staying at Michael’s place, and he doesn’t even give Louis puppy eyes as he barges into the place and makes himself at home on the couch.

“Michael, if you ever don’t want to do this, you can say no,” Louis says through a laugh. “I know he can be a bit of a handful at the best of times.”

“Nah, he keeps me company,” Michael promises. “Enjoy your night, Louis.”

Louis promises he will, which is more than likely a lie, and heads on his way. Liam texted him the address of the hotel where Harry will attend a dinner to conclude a conference that had been put on for the past two days. He’s got a room key tucked into the back of his phone case just in case he needs it, but he doesn’t think he will.

Unfortunately, he won’t be entering the room through the door.

If all goes to plan, Louis will be dropping through the ceiling from a vent in the ducts. He’s not too excited about it, but he’s even less excited to climb back up as it’s been a long time since he’s had to do something like this. He’s incredibly out of practice. 

Liam had given him all the directions earlier in the day, but that doesn’t stop him from droning on in Louis’ ear about everything he’s supposed to be doing. Louis wonders if he’s like this all the time, and if so he feels bad for Zayn and Niall, or if he’s just like this right now because he’s worried about Louis’ inexperience. 

Maybe a combination of both.

He’s not too confident the ceiling is supposed to be holding his weight, but he ignores it as he crawls on his hands and knees and hopes he’s not getting his directions mixed up. Dust flies up around him, obvious that no one’s been up here in a  _ long  _ time, and he does his best to hold in his coughs. He’s not too sure what anyone below can hear, and he’s already making a shit ton of noise just from crawling.

There’s a small ‘x’ on one of the ducts so Louis knows he’s made it to the right spot. Next to the ‘x’ is a vent he isn’t sure is big enough for himself to slip through. He’s starting to wonder if maybe Zayn and Niall aren’t busy, but that he might have been the only one they thought small enough to fit through the hole.

Rolling his eyes, he tries to peek through the slots. It doesn’t appear anyone is in the room yet, and he can’t hear anything, so he sits back and waits for Liam to give him instructions. 

“They’ve just finished dinner downstairs, so you’ve probably got another half hour before they get up here,” Liam says. “So. Enjoy the calm before the storm.”

“Do you think there’s going to be a storm?” Louis asks. He still doesn’t feel too secure, hung up high over the floor like this, and he’s afraid to move around too much.

“No, I think you’ll do fine,” Liam answers easily enough, but Louis’ been working with him for long enough to know that it isn’t all confidence in his tone. 

“Right.”

Liam doesn’t say anything else, and it’s probably for the best. He doesn’t want anyone to complain to hotel staffing that they think someone’s up in their ceiling. Harry trusts him to do a good job, and the biggest part of that is not getting caught, so. He shuts up and doesn’t move for long his butt starts to go numb. He’s pretty sure he sees a spider moving around in one of the corners and he does his best to ignore it. 

After about fifteen minutes he figures he should start setting up the harness so he’ll be able to climb back into the duct once he retrieves the phone. It’s uncomfortable and he’s halfway concerned he has it on wrong, but. There’s no one telling him any differently so he’s just got to deal with it.

“Alright, Lou,” Liam starts back up in his ear. “Harry is on his way up. He’s going to do whatever it is that Harry does to get the targets compromised, you’ll wait for my signal, and when I give it to you, you’ll drop down. Any questions?”

“No, I think I’m good.” Louis nods, but realizes Liam (probably) can’t see it. Instead, he watches the spider as it continues building its web, a welcome distraction from the nervous butterflies he feels building a home in the pit of his stomach. “Just tell me when.”

It’s been a long time since he’s felt this nervous before a mission, and in the grand scheme of things, this is nothing compared to the danger that Niall and Zayn put themselves in the middle of on a regular basis. Louis just has to convince men (and sometimes women) that he’s going to sleep with them and then steal something. The worst situation he’s ever been put in is the time some guy was pushing too hard and Zayn had to drop from the ceiling to hit him over the back of the head.

They still got what they needed, but they weren’t very subtle about it. 

Louis hears the beep of a keycard being held against the door, followed by the creak of it opening. There’s quiet voices, just a touch too soft for him to be able to make out. It grows louder as they walk into the room, door clicking shut softly behind them. Louis sees the blur of their bodies through the slits in the vent as they make their way past him. 

Louis can’t make out any specific words, and he tries not to focus too hard on figuring out what they’re saying. Liam will tell him when it’s time for his part to be done. Other than that, his job is to be silent.

“Okay, they’re making out on the bed now,” Liam says in his ear. Louis ignores the pit in his stomach and starts shifting the vent cover so he can drop down. “You’ll be dropping into the small entryway of the room. That gives you protection from being seen right away. When you drop down, wait for my next signal before you turn the corner into the room. Her phone is in the jacket on the nightstand. Do you need me to repeat any of that?”

“No,” Louis whispers. “Think I got it.”

“Good. Drop.”

Louis takes a deep breath to steady himself and psyches himself up to take the drop. It’s not a far drop, but there’s just something about being human that makes him afraid to fall from  _ any  _ height. Barely sparing a second to think about how he’ll climb back  _ up _ , he lowers himself out of the vent. He relies on his upper body strength to lower himself until his arms are fully extended and tries to drop as lightly as possible the final few feet. 

Once he’s on the ground, Louis pauses to listen and make sure they haven’t heard him. Conversation continues from around the corner, and Louis can hear them clearly now. 

“I like to be tied up,” Louis registers Harry saying. He almost chokes on his spit, but manages to compose himself. 

“What?” The woman seems just as confused as Louis is. “You want me to tie you up?”

“Yes.” 

Harry is an  _ idiot _ . 

Taking a deep breath, Louis peaks around the corner into the room. Sure enough, Harry’s handed over one of his silk hair scarves, hands tied to the headboard. She sits on his hips, hands running over his chest. Louis pushes down the nausea bubbling threateningly in his stomach and continues to tiptoe across the room.

He ignores the wet sounds that he knows is the sound of them kissing but won’t allow himself to look over to confirm and focuses on shifting his weight carefully in case there’s a creaky floorboard somewhere along his pathway. He barely contains his scream when he hears moaning, and it’s too high pitched to be Harry, but that doesn’t stop the heat thrumming under Louis’ skin. 

He’s so close to the phone, can just barely reach it if he extends his hand all the way, but just as he goes to take another step, he hears the sound of a gun cocking. 

“A  _ gun _ ,” Louis whispers, cursing under his breath.

“Care to explain yourself?” she asks. 

Louis turns, hands held palm up in front of him as he tries not to panic. It’s not the first gun that’s ever been pointed at him, but it feels the most dangerous. His only help is currently tied to the bed. Liam’s strangely silent in his ear. The panic he’s trying so hard to tamper down fights its way up his throat.

She’s still sitting on Harry’s hips, body angled so she can point the gun at him with one hand and keep another hand on Harry’s chest. Whether it’s to steady herself or to keep Harry from trying to overpower her, Louis can’t tell, and it doesn’t really matter. He doesn’t see a way where this ends  _ nicely _ .

“No,” he says, and maybe he should be trying to talk her down instead of agitate her, but apparently his brain isn’t communicating with his mouth.

Just as his brain finally catches up and starts to tell him he should be pleading with her to put the gun down, she makes a strangled noise, and her body crumples on top of Harry’s. The gun falls from her hand as she reaches up to grab her head. 

Liam’s loud in his ear again, telling him to run, but his feet won’t move until he sees with his own eyes that Harry is fine, somehow out of his restraints and shoving the woman’s body off of his own. He gets to his feet, grabbing at Louis’ hand and breaking him from his trance. He’s shaking out the fist that isn’t gripped tightly in Louis’, and Louis can see the bruising already starting to form. How he managed to get out of the ties, Louis has no idea, but he’s not questioning it now. 

The hallway is empty as they run down it, but Louis can hear the click of the door, just barely audible over the pounding of his heart in his ears, as it opens again. Her footsteps grow heavier as she chases them down the hallway. She’s not quiet about it, cursing both of them and sending very specific threats their way. Louis has no doubt she’d be able to pull them off. 

Harry doesn’t let go of his hand as he takes the lead, pulling Louis to the emergency stairwell at the end of the hall. He doesn’t hesitate before throwing open the door and darting down the stairs, taking them two at a time while Louis struggles to keep up.

“When you get to the bottom of the stairs take a left to the end of the hall,” Liam directs in his ear. “There’s an emergency exit tucked behind the laundry room.”

“Left,” Louis passes the message along, shoving Harry in the direction they need to go. 

Sure enough, there’s a small door tucked behind the laundry room, hidden unless someone happens to be looking for it. Harry pulls them through the door and out into the back parking lot, not slowing down for a breather as they continue running. 

Harry comes to a stop at a car, throwing open the driver’s side and climbing in. Louis doesn’t hesitate, running around to the other side and plopping down into the passenger’s seat. Harry doesn’t even check to make sure the door is shut before he backs out of the spot and speeds through the parking lot.

They’re silent until the hotel is a spot in the rearview mirror. Liam is still silent in Louis’ ear, so he takes out his earpiece and tucks it into his pocket.

“I got the phone,” he says to break the silence. 

“I knew you would,” Harry says, looking like he’s biting back a smile. 

“Right.” Louis shifts in the seat, listening to the leather squeak underneath him. They’re definitely speeding, townhomes blurring past them. He doesn’t have a clue as to where they’re going, but he doesn’t question it. Instead, he asks, “So you like to be tied up?”

Harry snorts like he wasn’t expecting it.

“Sometimes.”

“Good to know.”

Harry glances at Louis out the side of his eyes. “I thought we weren’t doing ‘whatever this is’ anymore?” Louis can hear the quotation marks in his voice.

He tries to swallow around the lump that’s formed in his throat. “Yeah. You’re right. We aren’t.”

The car stops, and it takes Louis a second to realize they’re outside Harry’s apartment.

“I didn’t know where you lived,” he says. “Couldn’t take you home.”

“Harry-”

Harry holds a hand up to cut him off. “You don’t want to let me in, for whatever reason. That’s fine. Don’t let me in. But you either cut me out completely, or you let me in. You don’t get to pick and choose what I’m worthy of knowing. You don’t get to pick the good parts and hide the rest. That includes ‘whatever this is.’ You don’t get to have sex with me and play with my emotions.”

“I’m not playing with your emotions,” Louis defends. “I’m protecting myself.”

“Sometimes you can be doing both.”

Louis fish mouths at him for a second before he opens the door and climbs out. “You don’t get to act like you know me!”

Harry follows him out of the car, and for a second he just stands there, black sedan separating them. He points a finger at Louis like that’s what he needs to get his point across. “I know you better than anyone else in your life. Except for  _ maybe _ Liam, but I would argue that I know you better because you’ve been sleeping with me for three years.”

“Are we going to have this argument on the street?” Louis deflects with a scoff.

“Yes.” Harry crosses his arms and leans against the side of the car. “If you come inside, we won’t have the argument at all. You’ll just use your ‘fuck me’ eyes and then we’ll have sex and then you’ll leave me like you always do.”

“I don’t  _ leave  _ you. I stay the night.”

“Louis!” Harry throws his hands up in frustration. “Do you want to have this talk or not?”

“I don’t  _ want  _ to have this talk with you ever,” Louis admits. “This is a talk I would prefer to put off for so long you forget about it.”

“What are you so afraid of? For just one second, be honest.”

Louis wants to throttle Harry Styles in the street. He wants to wipe that stupid look off of his face. He wants to kiss his face off. He wants to cry. He wants to do all of the above and more.

“When you let people in, they get hurt. If you keep everyone at a distance, it’s less likely they’ll get hurt. If people don’t know you care about them, they can’t be used against you.”

“Louis.” Harry’s voice breaks and his face falls. 

“And I’m done talking about it.”

“You’re done talking about it?” His expression changes, and now he kind of looks like he wants to reach across the top of the car and slap Louis on the back of the head. His fingers twitch against the roof. “We’ve barely started talking about it.”

“If I’m going to talk about it with anyone, it’s not going to be you.” That’s not entirely true, Louis knows. If he’s going to talk about it with anyone, it might as well be Harry. He knows Louis better than anyone else in his life right now, and they’re stuck together for the foreseeable future. 

“If that’s how you want to play this game,” Harry backs away from the car and throws his hands up in front of him, palms open, “then fine. We don’t have to talk about it. Go home, Louis.”

Louis kind of wants to argue, but he knows that’s not fair. He  _ should _ go home. They’re not going to have this conversation, at least not tonight, and they’re getting nowhere standing on the street yelling at each other. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Louis swallows around the lump in his throat again. “See you later. Briefing tomorrow with Liam at nine.”

Harry nods and starts to walk towards his apartment building. “See you at nine.”

Louis starts off towards the bus station, deciding it’s too late to walk home by himself. It’s been a long time since he’s had to make this walk home from Harry’s. It’s part of the reason he’d been so easily convinced to start staying the night after the first few times they’d slept together. Harry said he worried and Louis was always so  _ tired _ , so what was the harm in staying over?

If only Louis could go back and slap his past self. Maybe if he had held his ground, had never agreed to stay the night, then he wouldn’t be fighting back tears on his walk home from Harry’s apartment at almost midnight. 

The weather’s just starting to give over to the chill of late autumn, wind blowing gently and growing goosebumps on his exposed skin. He rubs at the skin of his arms and picks up his pace, unsettled and feeling vulnerable. 

He hates taking the bus at the best of times. People always sit too close to him even if there are numerous empty seats around. This time of night, there’s no shortage of empty seats, but even still, a woman chooses to take the seat right next to him. Her bag bumps his leg as she sets it on the floor, and he’s locked into his seat until his stop when he can ask her to move and not come off as rude. He starts to feel trapped, the way he always does when he doesn’t have a clear exit plan, but all he can do is look out the window and wait until the bus reaches his stop.

Not soon enough, the bus stops at the corner down the block from his apartment. The woman next to him moves without even being asked, ducking into the free seat across the aisle. Why she hadn’t been able to sit there all along, Louis doesn’t know, but he doesn’t dwell on it as he climbs down the steps and heads in the direction of his building.

There’s not much activity this late at night. Louis doesn’t live in a very active nightlife area. The only bar had shut down about six months ago, and Louis had never even been to it. It adds up to a very quiet walk home, something eerie creeping up the back of his neck. When he unlocks his front door, he feels like he’s being watched.

As Louis flips on the lightswitch and kicks off his shoe in the entryway, he can’t quite shake the feeling that something is  _ wrong _ . He tip toes down the hallway, house silent without Clifford around to greet him. He comes to the end of the hallway, the living room coming into view.

Something  _ is  _ wrong. 

His stuff is thrown carelessly across the room. His books are open and tossed onto the floor, bookshelf empty. Every drawer in his coffee table is left open. Old case files wrinkled and left on the table, haphazardly discarded. He would never leave his apartment like this.

Louis darts down the hallway that leads to his bedroom and finds it much the same. The mattress is off-center on his bed frame, as if someone was looking underneath it for something. His clothes are on the floor of his closet and more of his books are laying open randomly around the room. Panic starts to creep into the back of his mind, wondering who could have done and this and what they might have taken.

He feels less safe the longer he stands in the middle of the room. Without having any idea who’s done this, he doesn’t know what their plans are. They could be planning to come back if they didn’t find what they were looking for. If they were looking for  _ Louis _ , the danger he’s in grows the longer he just stands there.

This is enough to kick him into drive, grabbing an empty gym bag and throwing a few change of clothes into it. In the bathroom, he grabs body wash and shampoo and a toothbrush. He figures that’s good enough for now and sprints to the front door. He locks it behind him, the sound a satisfying click when he pulls his keys out.

He knocks on Michael’s door, aware that it’s well after midnight at this point and the man’s likely asleep, but he needs to pick up his dog.

Michael comes to the door, shirtless with his hair pressed to the side of his head. He doesn’t look or sound all that angry when he says, “You could have just picked him up in the morning. I really don’t mind looking after him. He’s a very good dog.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know all of that.” Louis waves a hand between them. “Can I please have him, though? I’ve got to go somewhere and I need him to come with.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Michael gives him a weird look, but heads back inside the apartment. Louis can hear him talking to Clifford somewhere inside before he reappears. Clifford doesn’t seem phased, jumping up happily onto Louis’ legs and licking all over as he’s petted. 

“Thanks, mate,” Louis says, widening his eyes in a way he hopes gives off sincerity. “We’ll see you around.”

He’ll probably never be back to this apartment, but. It’s never a good idea to make enemies, he supposes.

He leads Clifford down the stairs and out to the street. He dials Liam’s number, listening to it ring twice before he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Did I wake you?” Louis asks. He wants to start in the direction of Liam’s apartment, but he’s never been there. Louis may be secretive about his personal life, but Liam’s even worse.

“No. Are you okay?” Worry seeps into the words. 

“No,” he says honestly. “I need a place to stay tonight. And maybe a few nights. And maybe a new place to live.”

“Louis, what happened?” Liam sounds alert now, and Louis almost feels bad for worrying him.

“I can explain when I get there. Now, I know you don’t want to tell me this, but where do you live?”

  
  


As it turns out, Liam doesn’t live too far from Louis. Close enough that in another life where they could be real friends, they might have had dinners together regularly and gone out to the bars in between their apartments. 

Liam buzzes him up and Louis climbs the stairs to the second floor. It’s a nice apartment, definitely in the same price range as Louis and Harry’s, which makes sense. The organization probably takes care of Liam’s living arrangement as well. 

The door opens before he can even make it down the hall, Liam’s concerned face appearing behind it. 

“Get in here,” he says, and the lock clicks loudly behind them. He starts walking down the hallway towards a couch, throwing over his shoulder, “Take your shoes off and leave them by mine.”

Liam’s apartment is bare of personal touches - no photographs lining the walls, no colorful throw pillows tossed onto the couch, no extensive mug collection to be found in the kitchen. Louis almost worries this is a model home; it doesn’t quite look like anyone  _ lives _ in it.

“What happened?” Liam wastes no time, plopping onto the couch and patting the cushion next to him. “I thought you had a cat.”

“Hmm?” Louis hums and gives Clifford’s leash a light tug. The dog stops sniffing at the ground and follows him over to the couch. He behaves for once and doesn’t jump up onto the piece of furniture, and Louis is grateful. “No, that was a lie. This is Clifford.”

“Cute dog.” Liam reaches over and scratches behind his ears. He starts whispering something in that voice reserved exclusively for dogs and babies before he seems to realize what he’s doing and straightens back up. “How many times do I have to ask. What happened?”

Louis puffs up his cheeks and blows the air out loudly in a sigh. “Someone broke into my apartment. It seems like they were looking for something. Left the place a fucking mess.”

Liam’s eyes turn dark. “What did they take?”

“I don’t know,” Louis says honestly. “I didn’t stick around to check all that well. I was worried they would come back.”

“Smart,” Liam concedes, giving him a small nod. “Well, you’re welcome to stay here. I’ll alert-” He waves a hand absentmindedly, not finishing his sentence. Liam’s always been dodgy about who his boss is. Louis tries not to worry about it.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” Louis says, smiling the best he can. Anxiety is taking root in the pit of his stomach, growing by the second. He isn’t sure what to do, but as long as Liam doesn’t seem too worried about it, Louis will try not to be worried about it.

“I know it’s not really my place, but why didn’t you go to Harry’s?” 

The question takes him by surprise. Sure, everyone they work with probably has some suspicions about what’s going between the pair, but nobody really  _ acknowledges _ it, aside from a few snarky comments from Zayn every now and then.

“Um. I, uh. You know.” Louis waves his hand the same way Liam did just a minute ago.

Liam does not accept the gesture as easily as Louis did. He raises an eyebrow. “I actually don’t know.”

Louis takes a different approach. “Why would I go to Harry’s?”

“Because you guys are dating?”

“I-” Louis sputters, recoiling like he’s been slapped. “We’re not  _ dating _ .”

“You’re not?” Liam’s eyebrows pull together. “Are you lying to me? If you tell me the truth, I’ll tell you a secret about me.”

It’s a tempting offer. Louis considers it for a moment before leaning back into the couch cushions. Clifford takes this as an invitation and jumps up into his lap. He tries to tell him to get down, but Liam just reaches over and scratches Cliff’s ear, so he figures it’s not that big of a deal. He begins absentmindedly rubbing at Cliff’s fur, finding comfort in it when everything feels so uncertain.

“We’re, like, friends with benefits. Except less friends and more benefits.” 

“Hmm.” Liam hums, facial expression relaxing. “Why aren’t you more?”

“How could we be?” Louis asks, and at this point, he thinks he genuinely wants to know. He’s come to the point that he thinks he might actually want to talk about it with someone, instead of letting it bounce around in his head, torturing him every time he thinks about it.

“There’s no rules against it. There’s, like, no rules in general.” 

“That’s not what I mean.”

Liam sighs heavily, shoulders lifting up and dropping back down. “It’s a loaded question, I think. I’m not sure what your exact concerns are, but. This isn’t a forever job for you, correct me if I’m wrong, and I think you’re going to be getting out of it sooner rather than later. Get back to a normal life. Why try and stop yourself from happiness?”

“I’m-” Louis swallows, a thickness in his throat. He tries again, “What if he gets hurt? And it’s my fault? What if someone uses my feelings about him against me? Against him? What if I’m too distracted by my feelings for him to do my job properly and he gets hurt and it’s all my fault and-” He chokes around a sob. 

If Liam is surprised by his outburst, he doesn’t show it. He reaches over and wraps an arm around Louis’ shoulders, pulling him for a side hug that’s not as awkward as it should be. 

“People can get hurt doing anything,” Liam says, just above a whisper. “You can’t let it stop you from living your life. And in this case, you can’t let it stop you from doing the work you want. If this is still what you want to do.”

Louis wipes at his face, embarrassed. “You said you’d tell me a secret.”

“Yeah, I did,” Liam laughs. “Zayn and I are married.”

Louis whips his head around to look at him so quickly he isn’t sure his neck doesn’t break. “You  _ what _ ?”

“Zayn and I are married.” Liam shrugs, as if this isn’t life-altering news.

“Since when? How? What? Where is he?” There’s too many questions banging around in Louis’ head that he isn’t sure which ones to ask first.

“We’ve been together eight years, but we got married five years ago,” Liam explains. “We were together before we joined the organization, so not exactly the same situation as you. I was a lawyer and he worked at an art museum. One of the higher-ups for the organization contacted me one day, asking for me to consult on a case. It went so well, and I found a passion in doing this, that I quit my job and started doing this full time. Eventually, Zayn decided he wanted in, too.”

Louis takes it all in, wide-eyed. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice this before, but even now it doesn’t seem that obvious.

Liam takes Louis’ silence as a signal for him to continue. “It’s not always easy, especially watching Zayn put himself in danger, but we both love it. It makes us feel like we’re doing something important. I know this isn’t it for us forever, but it works for us for right now.”

“And where is he?” Louis repeats his previous question.

“At our apartment,” Liam answers. “This one isn’t actually used by me any longer.”

Louis’ suspicions were right, then; it is too clean for anyone to be living here. He isn’t sure what to say next and an awkward silence falls between them.

“I’m in love with him,” he finally admits. “And I think he feels pretty similarly, but.” He trails off.

“But you’re scared,” Liam finishes. He pulls Louis in for another hug, Clifford smushed between them. When they pull away, he ruffles Louis’ hair. “It’s okay to be scared. I’m sure he’s scared, too. But the best thing you can do is talk to him.”

“Think I might have fucked that up.” Louis sniffles, nose running the way it always does after a good cry. He can’t remember the last time he let himself break down like that. Definitely before joining the organization. It’s been a long time coming, he supposes.

“I think the only way you could fuck it up is if you really didn’t feel the same way. I think you’re both so far gone for each other. Promise me something, yeah?”

“I don’t like to make promises if I don’t think I can keep them,” Louis jokes with a small laugh. It falls flat between them, Liam’s face unamused.

“Will you just fucking talk to him?”

Louis sniffles again. He really needs a tissue. “I can do that.”

“Good.” It seems to satisfy Liam, nodding as he scoots to the other end of the couch. “You two have been fucking insufferable for almost four years now.”

He’s struggling to believe it’s been that long, but thinking back, it has been. He’s been with the organization for almost four years, and he and Harry have been sleeping together for just over three. 

“I made the first move,” Louis says, in the spirit of honesty. “We’d just fucking drained some rich fuck’s bank account, as we do. I don’t know what we were arguing about, but. You know. We argue just to fucking argue most of the time. And he was just  _ pissing  _ me off. Like. I thought I wanted to slap him across the face. I thought that’s what I was going to do, actually. But I just. I reached up and grabbed his face and fucking  _ kissed _ him.”

Liam makes a noise in the back of his throat. Louis can’t tell if it’s surprise.

Either way, he continues on. 

“And like. That’s the only time we’ve kissed. It’s too much, otherwise. Too real. But now? All I want to do is kiss his fucking face off. Which is probably a sign I’m in too deep.”

“I don’t think you’re in too deep,” Liam says.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re finally coming out of denial, though.”

Louis can’t help the laugh that escapes him. 

“Are you good?” Liam asks, face turning not quite serious. It’s more like concern stretching across his features. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” And Louis means it. Less than an hour ago, he came apart in Liam’s arms, but he means it now. “Can we sleep now?”

Liam stands from the couch, startling Cliff who had been dozing lazily, half on his lap and half on Louis’. 

“I’ve got a guest bed you can use,” he says, leading the way down the hall. “In the morning, we can go to headquarters and figure this shit out. We’ve got a few more things we need before we can consider this whole thing complete and done with, but if you want to back out, nobody will blame you. Lewis or Niall can step in.”

“Maybe.” Louis shifts from foot to foot. “I’ll sleep on it. Let you know in the morning, or whatever.”

Liam leaves him alone after he confirms that Louis doesn’t need anything else for the night. He takes Cliff out for a quick walk and then comes back inside. He goes through his nightly routine, brushing his teeth and washing his face in the attached bathroom while Cliff already dozes off at the end of the bed. 

Settling into the sheets, Louis feels lighter than he has in a long time. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to let people in. To trust them. It makes him miss his mother for a moment, a pang in his chest, as he decides to give her a call within the next few days. 

After getting used to the sounds of an apartment that isn’t his (or Harry’s), he falls into a light sleep.

* * *

Louis watches the room fall silent as they take in the information and what it means for them as a squad. Harry seems to take the news the worst, shoulders tightening and pink flaming across his cheeks.

“You didn’t call me,” he says, and it’s an accusation.

“Why would I have called you?” Louis mumbles, darting his eyes to the ground. Harry has good reason to believe Louis would call him in this kind of situation. Besides Liam, who  _ else _ would he have called?

“Don’t,” Harry breathes out and closes his eyes. “We’re not doing this right now.”

“So.” Liam claps his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention back to him. “Hurst is onto us. Or on to Louis, at the very least. I have offered Louis an out, but he has decided not to take it. He will continue to be a part of this until we get Hurst’s money, have him arrested, and donate the money, as is his decision. We’ve got people looking into what happened. In the meantime, Louis will be staying in somewhat of a safe house. Now that’s all we’re going to discuss on the matter because we’ve got things to get done.”

He dismisses the nonessential members of the team, discussing with each of them their next task, until only Harry and Louis remain in the room with him.

“You each know your part,” he says. “Harry, your meeting is in an hour. Louis, your ‘appointment’ is in forty-five minutes. I suggest you start heading that way now. I’ve printed your new patient intake packet and filled it out for you. Remember, swipe a keycard.”

Louis nods. “Keycard. Got it.”

This seems to satisfy him well enough. “Harry, the secretary is going to lead you into the room before the CEO gets there. Technically, everything important is locked up. Arriving fifteen minutes early gives you about five minutes to pick the locks on the filing cabinets and take pictures of the specific folder labeled ‘K. Rogers.’”

“Who’s that?”

“We believe it’s Hurst’s alias,” Liam says. “Hopefully the pictures you take will prove that. You’ve got to be quick. Is this something you think you can handle?”

Harry nods, face so serious that Louis considers laughing at him. 

“Well.” Liam pauses, taking a second to stare them down. “I guess you better get going. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, but try not to fuck this up?”

Memories of their last escapade flash through Louis’ mind, but he tampers them down. He doesn’t have time to worry about it. Liam dismisses them with a brief hug for both of them. 

It’s awkward as they make their way down the hall, their last conversation taking up space between them. Louis pushes through the tension, though, because he can count on one hand the number of times they’ve done this without each other, and sending Harry off without saying anything just feels wrong.

“Harry,” Louis says softly, just as he turns to leave. Harry pauses, spinning back around until they’re facing each other again.

“Yeah?” 

“Just-” Louis takes a step closer. He reaches out his hand and ghosts a finger over Harry’s cheekbone, stroking it gently before letting his hand fall back to his side. “Be safe.”

Harry’s jaw tenses, and Louis watches the way his Adam’s apple moves as he swallows.

“Always,” he promises.

“Can we-” Louis cuts himself off, swallowing, before trying again. “Can we talk later?”

“I think…” Harry trails off, lips flattening into a thin line. His facial expression relaxes before he sighs heavily. “I think I’d really like that.”

And then he’s gone, slipping out the door before Louis can say anything else.

  
  


As far as assignments go, swiping a keycard from an unsuspecting nurse is one of the easiest things Louis has had to do. She complains to him that the clip that holds the keycard and ID badge snapped earlier in the day, and when she uses the card to unlock the computer, she accidentally forgets it on the counter. He swipes both the keycard and the ID badge and tucks them into his pocket.

She comes back looking for them, but he must pull off the innocent expression he’s trying to paint on his face because she just glances at the counter and twists her mouth into a frown before heading back into the hallway. 

Louis goes through the check-up, doctor informing him he’s in good health but should stop smoking, and he’s back out on his way to Liam’s empty apartment. He’s thankful for a place to stay, but he misses the homey feeling of his own place, with neighbors to watch Clifford while he’s gone. Now, Clifford sits and stares wistfully out the window and sighs heavily when Louis makes to leave. 

Cliff is happy to see him when he unlocks the door, running down the hallway and jumping up onto his legs. It’s a habit Louis thought they had broken, but he doesn’t chastise him now, only scratches behind his ears and heads towards the kitchen to fill his bowl. 

He sits down at the small dining table and eats his own dinner, something greasy and unhealthy but  _ necessary _ that he picked up on his way home. 

He feels optimistic about things now, having confided in Liam and finding out about him and Zayn. Harry agreeing to talk with him seems like a positive sign too, although he isn’t sure when they’ll get around to doing it. He hopes soon, before he chickens out. He doesn’t want things to go back to the way they were before. He doesn’t think he’ll survive if they do.

Now that he’s seen that it can work out, gotten a taste of how good it can be, with the way Liam described what his marriage was like, Louis  _ wants  _ that. Maybe not the marriage part, not yet, but he wants to hold Harry’s hand and have someone to come home to and kiss him and just someone he can talk to everyday who knows what it’s like.

He goes to bed feeling better than he has in weeks, Clifford snuggled up at his feet, spirits high as he looks forward to the coming days.


	4. Chapter 4

Louis doesn’t hear from Harry for the next two days, but he’s not worried. They’ve all been silent, waiting on Liam to reach out to them with the next step. He’s holed himself away, processing through all the information they’ve given him. Louis’ sure there’s a lot to go through - they’ve never taken on something of this size, and he’s got to go through numerous flash drives, the pictures from the pharmaceutical files, phones, and whatever else he’s collected. 

Louis does not envy him.

He works a shift at the record store, and it’s a good enough distraction while it lasts. Once he’s back to Liam’s bare apartment, he feels lonely in a way he hasn’t for a while, and he knows it’s because normally a good chunk of his free time is spent at Harry’s. He’s half tempted to call the man, but he doesn’t know what he would say yet.

He’ll just wait for Harry to make the next move. The ball is in his court, and all that. 

He starts to think about how long he wants to do this, live this life. It’s been almost four years, digging up dirt on nasty billionaires, taking their money, giving it away. He can’t deny that it’s been satisfying, finding people who exploit their workers and bringing some sort of justice upon them, but-

It’s  _ tiring _ .

Louis comes home and feels the kind of tired a person can’t sleep off. He feels it deep in the depths of him, from his bones to the pit in his stomach to the droop of his eyes. He knows this was never going to be a forever thing. It wasn’t even meant to be a thing for as long as it has been, if he’s honest to himself. In desperate need of money, Zayn came to him and told him he could make a little cash and help out a lot of people. It seemed too good to be true, but in the end that’s basically what it was.

He’s taken care of - by who, he has no idea - and all the money he makes at the record store goes back home to his family. 

Yeah, he feels like he makes a real difference in lives, but there’s something missing. There’s something more that he needs. 

He hasn’t thought about seriously leaving before, but now that the thought enters his mind, it won’t go, making itself at home in his worries and dreams. 

He starts to feel like this might be the last go around for him, in desperate need of something new. Something  _ normal _ .

Louis doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it too much longer, sure he’s going to drive himself crazy if he lets the thoughts stir in his mind. The next time he gets a chance, he’ll talk to Liam or Zayn, to at least get it out of his head.

Speaking of Zayn, Louis’ phone buzzes and his name appears across the screen. He picks up the phone, reading over the text inviting him over to Niall’s for beer and burgers. His eyebrows furrow as he rereads the message. This isn’t the sort of thing they do, hang out outside of work, but Louis figures nothing’s really normal any more.

He decides to go.

  
  


Niall’s apartment is similar to Louis’ and Liam’s, but a bit messier. He has two cats who curl around Louis’ ankles when he steps inside, and there are blankets tossed over the back of the couch haphazardly, but Louis feels like he’s been wrapped in a warm hug as soon as the door shuts behind him. 

“Tommo!” Niall cheers, pulling him into a tight hug. Louis freezes, surprised by the gesture, but he relaxes and hugs him back. He’d forgotten how nice it was just to be held. 

“Niall,” he says, smiling widely as they break apart. 

Niall leads him to the kitchen, a beer already waiting for him. Zayn pulls him into a brief hug too, and for a moment, Louis can forget that they aren’t normal people. That this is something they do, hang out and drink beer and eat burgers Niall’s almost burnt. 

“Liam’s busy as you know, and I invited Harry but he didn’t seem too keen to come so I told him not worry about it if it would make him uncomfortable,” Niall says, tapping his beer against Louis’, glass clinking pleasantly. 

“Oh?” Louis aims for nonchalant, eyebrow raised as he takes a sip. “Shame.”

“Yeah, well, no big deal.” Niall shrugs. 

Hanging out with the two of them is easier than Louis had expected, gentle teasing and effortless conversation. He begins to wonder why he kept himself so isolated from them all these years, and if it was really worth it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Zayn asks, tapping on Louis’ elbow with his cold glass. The condensation hangs on his skin, droplets sliding down until they fall onto his sweats.

“Just wondering why I’ve never done this with you before,” he admits. 

Zayn’s expression is unreadable, but Niall butts in anyway.

“It never seemed like you really wanted to be around us, but I always knew you would come around,” he says, and the smile he gives Louis lets him know that there aren’t any hard feelings. “I don’t know why you joined the organization, and it’s not my place to ask, but it feels like you’ve spent these past four years putting yourself together and we didn’t want to disrupt that growth.”

Louis laughs without humor. “It’s funny because that’s kind of what I was doing. Lately, though, it feels like maybe I would have been more successful if I’d let someone in.”

“What about Styles?”

“That’s not-” He bites the inside of his cheek. “I don’t really know what it is. We’ve been sleeping together for years now. It’s inevitable that I developed feelings for him, right? But I was so focused on stitching my seams together that I was kind of blind to it, and I think I hurt him a lot because of that.”

“He’s head over heels for you, so I think that no matter if you hurt him or not, if you explain  _ why _ , I think you’ve still got a chance,” Zayn says, and it takes Louis by surprise.

“He’s head over heels for me?”

Zayn nods, taking a sip from his bottle, draining it and setting it back down onto the countertop. He doesn’t add anything, and Louis still can’t read his expression, but he trusts Zayn. Maybe he knows something Louis doesn’t, and maybe he doesn’t know jack shit, but Louis feels strangely comforted.

“Another one?” Niall offers him, and the conversation lightens as they get drunk well into the early morning.

* * *

Liam contacts them all a few days later, which Louis thinks is great news because he was about to shave his own head from boredom. Clifford is starting to run the other way when he sees Louis grab the leash, and his shifts at the record store only take up so much of his time. 

Harry and Zayn are already in the conference room when he arrives, talking quietly to themselves. Ever since that night at Niall’s, Louis suspects they’re closer than he had once thought. 

He smiles politely at them, slipping into his usual seat next to Harry. He tenses, but returns the smile and Louis feels hopeful they can fix things between them. Not even fix things between them - make them  _ better _ than they were before. 

“Have you been sleeping?” Harry asks, catching him by surprise.

“What?”

“Like, I know you have problems sleeping so I was just wondering.” He shrugs and waits for Louis’ answer.

“Um, yeah. I’ve been staying at Liam’s. It’s not really the same as my bed-”  _ or yours _ , he thinks, “-but I have Clifford, so there’s some semblance of home.”

“Who’s Clifford?” Harry’s eyebrows come together, nostrils flaring and lips pursing comically.

“Oh, my dog.”

“I thought you had a cat.”

“I-” Louis debates the pros and cons of coming clean, and decides it’s in his best interest to start telling the truth from this point on out. “I do not have a cat. I lied. I have a dog named Clifford. He’s big and soft and loves cuddles and maybe you can meet him sometime.”

A soft smile stretches Harry’s lips, and it’s one Louis hasn’t seen in a long time; not since he caught Harry singing in his kitchen all those weeks ago. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says, quietly so it stays between just the two of them.

Their peaceful bubble is broken when Niall and Liam join them. Niall’s a burst of energy, always, drawing all attention to him no matter what he’s doing. He’s so obvious all the time that Louis wonders how he gets away with always doing the most covert assignments, sneaking around unseen. It’s a question he doesn’t think he’ll ever know the answer to.

“Alright, so here’s what I’ve got for us,” Liam starts, pulling up the PowerPoint. “We’ve got a decent size list of every doctor and pharmaceutical company on Hurst’s payroll. We’ve got solid proof he’s been embezzling money from his campaign into an offshore bank account. We have proof that he paid off multiple news sources to cut a story about these specific pharmaceutical companies pushing this drug and the overprescription of it by doctors. We’ve got a decent enough chunk that we can hand it over and have him arrested.”

“Any word on the people who broke into Louis’ apartment?” Harry asks, surprising Louis, although he wonders why. Harry’s always thoughtful, and Louis knows this is something he’s been worried about.

“I was going to tell you all after, but thank you, Harry, for bringing it up. We reviewed the security tapes from Louis’ building and from there it was easy. The men were part of Hurst’s crew and we’re going to bring them in with everyone else.” 

Louis feels better instantly, comforted by the fact that they at least know who did this. He doesn’t have to live with the worry that these people still might be out there, ready to do something more dangerous than just break into his apartment. 

Desperate to change the subject and take the spotlight from himself, Louis asks, “Do we have the information for his bank account?” 

“Yeah, actually. From the information I took off each of the flash drives, I was able to figure it out. For someone literally running for Presidential office, he doesn’t have much in terms of strong cyber security. Once I was in, I had access to pretty much everything.”

Louis snorts. Hurst being a total fucking idiot is exactly what he would expect. 

“So what’s next?” Harry asks, drumming his fingernails on the table. 

“How would you like to go to a gala?” Liam asks, a sly smile stretching across his face.

* * *

Louis never wants to wear another fucking tie again in his life. 

He tugs at the restricting fabric at his neck once again, but it does nothing to help the feeling that he’s going to suffocate. 

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Louis doesn’t even have to turn around to know whose voice that is, deep and feeling like it reaches right into his core. He spins around, barely biting back the smile on his face.

“Come here often?” he jokes.

Harry looks good, in a suit so dark purple that it almost appears black and a bright yellow tie. He’s holding a glass of wine, but not sipping from it, and Louis wants to tell him to go grab something he actually wants. 

“Maybe I don’t come to this exact kind of thing, but I feel like I do this too much,” Harry admits, swirling his glass. Louis watches the white wine move so he doesn’t have to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he sighs, finally. He looks up to find Harry already staring at him. “Sometimes it gets you really down.”

“Liam says you’ve been thinking about quitting.”

“Liam should maybe keep his mouth shut if he knows what’s good for him.”

Harry laughs quietly, biting his lip, looking like he’s barely holding it back. Louis gives him a soft smile so he knows that he’s (mostly) kidding.

“It is nice that we get to watch the spectacle of it all, though. Normally we have to play a much bigger role, and that’s fun sometimes, but I like sitting back and letting others do the work sometimes.”

Louis tries not to read too much into the words and the cheeky way Harry is wiggling his eyebrows. He decides he needs a drink of his own and excuses himself to the bar, where Niall is behind it serving drinks.

“Why are you the only one who has to work tonight?” Louis asks after he orders a whiskey sour.

“Someone’s gotta be keeping an eye out for you losers,” he answers, sliding the drink across the bar with practiced ease.

“And it has to be you?”

Niall shrugs. “I feel like I’m the most qualified to be a bartender. Now go, I have a job to do.” He shoos Louis away, heading over to take more orders.

Louis wanders around the gala, doing his best to blend into the background and not mingle. He notices Harry doing the opposite, in a group of people and animatedly telling a story, wine glass still in hand as he waves his arms around wildly. Louis knows it’s only a matter of time before he waves too fiercely and the wine goes everywhere.

As if summoned by his thinking, Harry does just that, wine splattering on the floor around them. The group breaks out into laughter as Harry heads over to the bar and grabs a handful of paper towels to clean up his mess. Louis forces himself to stop staring, making his way over to a table.

Zayn gives him a nod as he sits down.

“Having a good time?” he asks, fingers drumming on the table.

“It’s weird, I think. I normally have a job to do. I’ve never had to just sit back and do nothing,” Louis admits. 

He scans the room again, unable to help himself. It’s hard to undo years of training - of learning to know everything that’s happening in a room at all times, of cataloguing everyone in a room just in case.

“Yeah, well, I’m normally pretty behind the scenes. Being out in the open like this makes me nervous.”

And he looks it, fingers tapping a song that Louis can’t hear and his bottom lip bitten red. 

“Our only job is to enjoy the gala and make sure Hurst stays right here in this room so that Liam can work his magic and not have to worry about being interrupted,” Louis says evenly. “We can even enjoy a drink or two.” He gestures with his glass to Zayn’s untouched beer. 

“Drinking on the job makes me nervous,” he says, but reaches over and takes a sip anyway. 

They only have to stay until they get word from Liam that he’s done transferring the money from Hurst’s  _ known _ bank account to theirs so that they can donate the money. They need to make sure Hurst is preoccupied all night. While they’re here, all the contacts and people on his payroll that they know the name of are being arrested in a mass raid. Despite Hurst being the most high-profile person they’ve ever targeted, it’s shaping up to be one of the easiest takedowns they’ve ever done.

Harry meanders over eventually, done telling wild stories that Louis has no idea if true or not. He takes a seat on the other side of Louis, setting his wine glass down on the table. Louis is sure he still hasn’t taken a sip, the only liquid missing from his spill earlier.

“Hey,” he says once he’s seated, eyes flicking between Louis and Zayn, almost as if he’s nervous.

Zayn clears his throat. “I figure one of us should be out there socializing. I’m gonna go-” He tilts his head in the direction of the dancefloor that’s not being used for dancing before standing and leaving them alone.

“Having fun?” Louis asks, cringing at the fakeness in his voice, trying to force a conversation. 

“These things are never fun,” Harry says with a humorless laugh.

“Right.” 

Louis doesn’t say anything else, just takes a sip of his drink. He’d nearly forgotten about it, condensation pooling on the table around the glass and wetting his fingertips. It’s refreshing and grounding in a way he needs whenever Harry’s around.

“What are you doing after this?” Harry asks. “I think it’s time we finally had that talk.”

“I think so too,” Louis agrees easily. They’ve been putting it off long enough.  _ Louis’ _ been putting it off long enough. 

“Come to mine?”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” 

They don’t talk after that, sitting there and observing the room silently, but to Louis it doesn’t feel awkward. He can’t speak for Harry, has no idea what the man is even thinking, but he feels hopeful about the way the night is looking to shape up. 

  
  


The night doesn’t drag on much longer after that. Liam sends them the message that everything’s clear, that there are people waiting for Hurst to come home to be arrested and his bank account’s drained, and Louis doesn’t need to be told twice. He says his goodbyes to Zayn and Niall, but can’t find Harry anywhere. He tries not to be too bothered by it as he heads in the direction of Liam’s empty apartment.

Once there, he changes into something less stuffy, taking comfort in the soft fabric of his sweatpants against his skin as he prepares to head over to Harry’s. He feels both nervous and excited walking in the direction of his place, hands tucked deep in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

Muscle memory has him entering in the code and making his way to Harry’s door. Without even taking a moment to brace himself, Louis knocks on the door and waits for it to open.

Harry looks good, standing in the open doorway, dark sweatpants hanging low on his hips as he moves over to let Louis inside.

“You look cozy,” Harry says, shutting the door behind them.

Like no time at all has passed, Louis makes his way down the hallway to the bedroom. It looks the same as it always has, sheets rumpled like Harry’s been laying on top of them, shoes knocked on their sides just next to the closet door. 

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, wiping the palms of his hands on the knees of his sweatpants.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” he whispers shakily. The words barely make it out before he’s crying silently, letting the hot tears run down his cheeks and drip onto the grey fabric of his pants. He can feel the sting of his tears in his nose, in the lump in his throat, in the way his chin wobbles. 

He feels the bed dip as Harry sits down next to him. Moments later, he’s wrapping an arm around Louis and pulling him close, pressing a timid kiss on the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, too,” he says, taking Louis by surprise.

Louis laughs humorlessly. “What are you sorry for?”

“Sorry for whatever reason you’re crying, for starters,” Harry says, pressing another kiss into his hair. “And sorry for pushing you when you didn’t need to be pushed. It wasn’t fair to you. We’d never talked about being more, so I didn’t have a right to be upset.”

Louis shifts until he’s facing Harry, one leg tucked up underneath himself, catching Harry’s hand as it falls from his shoulder. He plays with the rings there, finding comfort in them as he thinks of the words he wants to say.

“No, I was unfair to you. I don’t hate you. I don’t think I ever have. I think you’re annoying sometimes, but in a way that makes me want to never stop smiling. You keep me on my toes and make life interesting, especially in times when I didn’t know if there was anything out there that would ever make me happy again.”

Louis feels Harry’s fingers tense in his hand, but he doesn’t say anything, staying quiet as Louis takes a deep shuddering breath and continues.

“ I am not sitting here, unaware of what I feel for you. I’m not even  _ afraid _ of the emotions themselves. I am not afraid to be in love with you. I am afraid of the way it makes me vulnerable. I am afraid of the way my body sets itself on fire when you touch me. I am afraid to watch you leave, worried that you aren’t going to come back to me. How do you do it? How do you not let the love  _ consume  _ you? How do you love me and let me go into the world, unafraid, knowing there’s a chance one of us doesn’t come back?”

Harry turns his hand over, tangling their fingers and squeezing tightly.

“It’s hard,” Harry admits. “And I don’t know what you’ve gone through to feel anxiety like this.” He reaches out with his free hand to stroke a finger across Louis’ cheekbone, so delicate when everything feels so fragile. “But I’d love it if you told me a little about it. It’s not good to hold on the way you have for so long.”

“I just don’t-” Louis pauses and swallows thickly, just barely holding himself together. It’s been so long since he’s allowed himself to feel free to talk about himself like this. “I’ve seen enough of the world to know that people aren’t usually who they say they are. People aren’t usually good, and if they do good things, there’s usually a motivator.”

“Louis, baby.” Harry’s eyes soften. 

“I worked for this really rich family in high school, cleaning their pool and sometimes helping out as a server when they would throw a dinner party, just trying to save up enough money to pay to go to college. They were  _ awful _ .”

“They usually are,” Harry mumbles, finger stroking along the inside of Louis’ wrist. “As proven by the work we do.”

“They were so wasteful. They threw extravagant parties and threw away perfectly good food instead of donating it. One time, after they threw a party, there was so much food left over. I tried to take some home, but the mom caught me and made me throw it away. She said it wasn’t for me.”

Harry inhales sharply, fingers tensing in Louis’ grip. “I came from a family like that.”

“You did?” Louis’ eyes widen, watching the way Harry’s eyelashes flutter as he blinks down at the duvet.

He nods, looking up into Louis’ eyes. He must not like what he sees because he darts his eyes back down. Maybe looking away gives him the confidence he needs to go on.

“We weren’t billionaires or anything,” he continues. “But we had a decent amount of money. We bought so many things we didn’t need. My mom would buy outfits and never wear them again, but she refused to donate them. Sometimes she would sell them for more than she bought them for.”

“And what happened? Why are you here now?” Louis asks, squeezing his hand. 

“I just left. I got, like, way too much money when I turned eighteen. I didn’t know what to do with it. I just-” He exhales a deep shuddering breath. “I just packed up a bag, left a note, and ran away, I guess. I spent about six months living in an apartment, feeling lonely, but not knowing what to do. Finally I put enough money to pay my rent for a year into a savings account and just donated the rest.”

“What?” Louis’ eyes widen.

“Yeah, I just did it. I didn’t second guess myself, and it was the most freeing thing I’ve ever done.”

“Do you talk to your parents at all?” Louis isn’t sure if he’s allowed to ask questions like that, but it’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

Harry’s face softens, almost like he’s thinking about something else, off somewhere that’s not his bedroom. Louis gives a gentle squeeze on his fingers and his eyes refocus, a smile teasing his lips.

“I didn’t, at first,” he admits. “I do now. They’re my parents, you know?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes. “Yeah, I know.”

“And your family?” Harry counters, almost a challenge. 

If this were any other time, any other day, Louis would shut down and close himself off. They don’t talk about things like this. But. Louis is trying to do better, trying to be more open, trying to let Harry in. 

“I don’t talk to them as much as I should,” he says, giving a tiny shrug. “I send them my paychecks from the record store, but I don’t know what to say to them.”

“I’m sure they miss you.”

“I know they do,” Louis agrees. “They tell me so.”

Harry hums quietly, tracing his fingers along the inside of Louis’ wrist and up his forearm and back again. Louis isn’t sure how long they sit there like that, letting Harry trace nonsensical patterns into his skin, listening to the sound of each other breathing.

“I told you I loved you,” he finally says, breaking the heavy silence that lays on them like a blanket.

“You did.”

“You didn’t say it back.”

Harry looks at him then, through his eyelashes, appearing almost innocent. “I didn’t.”

“Is that not what you want?”

Louis had thought they were on the same page, but maybe not.

“No, it is,” Harry says. “I didn’t want to say it then because it felt like I might interrupt your momentum.”

“Say it now,” Louis says firmly. 

“I love you.” A smile breaks out across Harry’s face as he straightens up, face growing brighter. “I love you. I love you, I love you,  _ I love you _ .”

“Okay, you don’t need to go that far-”

Harry cuts him off, reaching over and pulling him into an aggressive kiss, noses knocking as they try and find the right angle. It’s hard because they’re both so eager, lips slipping against one another and hands traveling across their bodies. It’s their first kiss since their very first one, all those years ago, when Louis was the one trying to get Harry to shut up. 

It’s entirely different - still passionate, but not in the same way. Their teeth had knocked and they’d been quick with it, a stepping stone to get to where they really wanted to go. Now, Harry slows them down, lips fitting easily against Louis’ as he guides their heads. His fingers still grip tightly at Louis’ wrist, the other tangled in the strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

Harry pulls away slowly, sucking at Louis’ bottom lip once more before resting his forehead against Louis’. He reaches up and thumbs at Louis’ bottom lip before letting his hand drop again.

“Hi,” Louis breathes out. “What are you thinking?”

“We’re serious about this, right?” Harry asks, and Louis can tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Harry, I’m going to say this as many times as you need me to and I’m going to say it as clearly as I can. I love you. I want to be with you. I want to spend so much time with you that you grow absolutely sick of me.”

Harry laughs soundlessly, shoulders shaking and forehead bumping against Louis’. “Do I finally get to figure out where you live?”

“Currently, it’s nowhere,” Louis says. “Since I was broken into I’ve just been staying at Liam’s, and I haven’t been actively trying too hard to find somewhere new to live.”

“Are you not going to move back into your apartment once Hurst is arrested?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answers. “There will always be people we’ve pissed off in our effort to get to him. And while we can theorize that it was Hurst’s team who did it, we can’t know for sure, so I don’t think I’d feel very safe going back.”

Harry’s face turns more serious, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth. He swallows before asking, “Will you stay here with me? Until you figure it out?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Why else would I ask?” Harry asks, quiet laughter shaking them, foreheads still pressed together. Louis’ starting to go a bit cross-eyed, but he doesn’t want to pull away just yet.

“And my dog? He can stay with us too?”

Louis feels gentle fingers running up and down his thigh, feather light and teasing. He resists the urge to shiver, but can’t stop the goosebumps from forming on his skin. 

“I can’t wait to meet him and take him on walks,” Harry says earnestly. 

Louis would love nothing more than to sit and talk with Harry all night, revealing parts of himself that he’s kept protected for so long, would love to talk about his dog and think about going on walks with Harry, but he can’t take it anymore. He can’t take the teasing touches and the eyes staring into his and the wetness of Harry’s lips.

Slowly, hesitant because it all still feels like a dream, like he’s not really allowed to touch, he leans forward and presses their lips together. Lightly at first, then harder as he allows the sense of urgency thrumming under his skin to bubble to the surface. 

Harry seems to match the need Louis feels, hands coming up to cradle his face, fingertips pressing into the skin. All Louis can do is take and take and take - take the things that Harry gives to him. Gratefully, needily, like Harry kissing him is what’s putting the air in his lungs.

He fists Harry’s shirt, pulling them back until they’re laying on the bed, Harry hovering over him, breathing into each other’s mouths. He settles between Louis’ legs, spreading them open with the push of his thighs. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Harry asks, fingers trailing down until they reach the hem of Louis’ shirt, pushing it up and tickling the skin there. 

“Promise,” Louis answers, pushing his chin up to reach for another kiss.

Their tongues slide together lazily, no urgency or pressure behind it, while Harry’s fingers dance higher and higher, pushing Louis’ shirt up until he reaches his nipples. With the same featherlight touches, he takes one nipple between his fingers, rolling and pinching, just enough to have Louis shifting his hips up in search of friction.

Harry reaches down with his other hand to grip at Louis’ hip, not pressing down but holding him still. He shifts his hand over to his other nipple, doing the same thing, and then breaks apart their kiss. His lips are shiny, a small string of spit connecting their mouths, and maybe it’s gross, but mostly Louis wants to kiss him again.

Instead, Harry leans down and takes the other nipple in his mouth, and even his hand on Louis’ hip isn’t enough to keep him bucking up, tightening his thighs around Harry’s legs as he searches for friction.

Harry flicks at Louis’ nipple with his tongue, pinching harder with his other hand and Louis is going to lose his mind.

This isn’t how they have sex. It’s never been like this, so attentive and  _ loving _ in a way that Louis didn’t know he needed. While it was never nameless, faceless sex, it was always under the assumption that it didn’t mean anything. This, with Harry pinching his nipples and gripping tightly at his hip, is dirty in a way that feels like he cares.

After what seems like hours but is realistically only a few minutes, Harry lets up on his nipples, biting one last time at each of them before kissing his way back up to Louis’ lips. He pecks lightly, once, then twice, before sitting back.

He slides his own shirt off, and there’s a soft sound as it hits the ground. 

“Can I-” Harry gestures to Louis’ shirt, pushed up to his chest.

“Does it even matter at this point?” Louis asks sarcastically, quiet laughter as Harry digs his fingers into his sides and tickles him briefly. Doing his best to push Harry’s hands away, Louis gets out through his laughter, “Fine! Fine, I surrender. Take the shirt.”

He sits up and his shirt joins Harry’s on the floor, and he pushes Harry away with his foot so he can slip out of his sweatpants and boxers until he’s laying there bare, feeling like he should cover himself back up as Harry’s eyes rake over him.

As if he can sense Louis’ self-consciousness, Harry trails his hands up Louis’ thighs, leaning in and pressing a kiss to both of his hip bones. “Love everything about you.”

“It’s not fair that I’m naked and you’re still wearing pants,” Louis says, albeit a little breathless, squirming under Harry’s hands. 

This seems to snap him out of his daze and the remainder of his clothes are tossed to the floor. Harry’s immediately back on him, mouth trailing kisses up and down his thighs, biting down every now and then, hands traveling and squeezing, and all Louis can do is lay back and try to keep himself from moving too much.

He’s not even aware he’s making sound until Harry’s mumbles, “You sound so good,” against the skin of his stomach. 

“Get on with it,” is all Louis can say back, fingers fisted into the sheets, but wanting nothing more than to tangle them in Harry’s hair. “I’m not getting any younger here.”

He sucks one last kiss onto the sensitive skin of Louis’ stomach before sitting up and reaching over to his nightstand, stretching as he digs around in the drawer. From this angle, Louis can admire the way his muscles flex as he keeps himself from tumbling off the bed and the softness to his hips that’s always been there as long as Louis’ known him. 

Harry settles himself back over Louis once he’s found what he’s looking for, condom abandoned on the sheets next to them for the time being as he coats his fingers in lube. He warms it up, just as he’s always done, before he reaches down and teases around Louis’ rim.

“Ready, baby?” he asks, placing a gentle kiss to the inside of Louis’ thigh. As soon as he receives a nod, he slowly presses his finger inside, soothing Louis with a loving hand on his stomach when Harry notices him tense up. He’s gentle, finger carefully pressing in and out, waiting until Louis relaxes to add a second one. 

Like he can’t help himself, Harry leans forward and takes the head of Louis’ cock in his mouth, swirling his tongue and taking as much of it into his mouth as he can from the awkward angle. He grips the base with his hand and uses it to cover what his mouth can’t, hand and head bobbing at the same torturous pace.

“You’re going to kill me,” Louis breathes out, one hand gripping the sheets while the other tangles in Harry’s hair. He’s not pushing, but just holding on, steadying himself as Harry slips in another finger.

Just as Louis’ sure he’s going to have to tell Harry to pull away or this will end all too early, Harry does pull off, fingers slipping out. He wipes them on his thigh, wincing at the stickiness and Louis laughs under his breath, reaching over and pressing his fingertips to the inside of Harry’s wrist before he goes to slip on the condom.

He coats himself generously in lube, lining up with Louis. Before he pushes in, he makes eye contact with Louis and smiles so goofily that it pulls another laugh from him, eyes almost closing as he throws his head back into the pillow.

“I can’t believe I love you,” he says, but they both know he doesn’t mean it. 

He reaches up to brush away a stray curl that’s fallen across Harry’s forehead, nodding and softening his smile so it’s not so wild.

The first press in is always overwhelming, but tonight it feels even more so because there’s something  _ more  _ there now. There’s something in Harry’s eyes and the tender way he runs his hands up and down Louis’ sides. There’s something more in the looks passed between them, and Louis feels himself biting back tears.

As Harry starts to slowly move his hips, pulling out before gently pushing back in, he reaches up and wipes away a tear that manages to make its way out of Louis’ eye.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” he asks.

“No, no, these are good tears,” Louis promises, taking Harry’s hand and kissing the palm of it. 

It seems to be all the encouragement Harry needs, slowly picking up the speed of his hips as he lets his hands roam the parts of Louis’ body he can reach. He lays tender kisses in Louis’ hairline, squeezes at his hips, and leaves a trail of goosebumps as they trace a path along the softness of his stomach.

It’s so good and so overwhelming that Louis wants to kick himself for denying them both of it for so long.

“Right there,” Louis gasps, whole body lighting up as Harry hits his prostate. He tightens the grip of his thighs around Harry’s hips, trying to pull him as close as he can. 

His cock had laid abandoned between them, but when Harry hears this he takes a hold of it, pumping it in time with the movement of his hips.

“Baby,” Harry breathes, so quietly that Louis’ not sure he even meant to say it. He says it again, louder, followed by, “Come for me.” 

Louis does, painting both of their stomachs, as Harry works him through it. He lets go when Louis starts twitching from oversensitivity but doesn’t slow the movement of his hips, so incessant that Louis thinks he’s going to start crying from a different kind of overwhelmed.

“You feel so good,” Harry says, leaning down onto his forearms and whispering it in Louis’ ear. 

Just as Louis thinks he can’t take it any longer, Harry’s hips are stuttering and slowing, coming into the condom. He stays still for a few more breaths, the air hot around Louis’ ear, both of them trembling against one another.

Louis finally pushes at his shoulders and he pulls out, rolling over but keeping one arm wrapped around Louis’ middle.

“I love you,” Louis whispers, just because he can.

“I love you too,” Harry mumbles against the sweat-soaked skin of Louis’ shoulder.

“We should shower.”

“Mmph.”

“Harry,” he giggles. “Harry, we should shower.”

“What if we didn’t?” Harry counters.

“That’d be really gross.”

Harry makes a movement as if to say ‘I don’t really care’ and closes his eyes.

Louis sighs dramatically. He runs a hand through Harry’s curls. 

“Okay, fine, we can take a nap before we shower,” he says, but they both know it’s a lost cause when he snuggles up into Harry’s arms and allows his own eyes to close.

* * *

Louis spends the next few days slowly moving what’s left over of his life into Harry’s apartment. He even makes space for Louis in his closet, emptying out drawers and graciously accepting him into the space.

Clifford, of course, loves Harry. He might even be Cliff’s new favorite human, and most nights Louis finds them passed out together on the couch, Clifford’s head resting gently on Harry’s lap as they both snore quietly while the television plays a forgotten show in the background.

It’s easy and everything he didn’t know was missing from his life, and he wonders when he’ll stop waiting for the rug to pull out from under his feet.

“Stop thinking so hard,” Harry says one night, coming up behind him and pressing a kiss into his hair.

“Could you hear me thinking?”

“More like I could smell your brain overworking,” he teases as he presses another kiss into Louis’ hair.

“Sorry,” he says, allowing himself to relax back into Harry’s arms. “I’ll try and turn my brain off.”

“You don’t have to do that. Want to talk about it?”

It’s easier like this, when they aren’t facing each other, and Louis doesn’t have to watch Harry’s face shift into pity or hurt. He runs a finger along the bones of Harry’s hand that rests on his stomach and sighs. “I just worry that I’m dreaming. That this is all going to go away. What did I do to deserve this, right?”

“Louis,” Harry says, voice cracking. 

He uses his grip on Louis’ stomach to spin him around, walking them backwards until the countertop is digging into Louis’ back. He leans in until their foreheads are touching, eyes wide.

“Do you really think like that?”

Louis swallows around the tightness of his throat and nods the best he can with his forehead still pressed against Harry’s.

“Sometimes,” he admits. “Most of the time.”

“I’m not-” Harry releases a heavy breath, disturbing the fringe of Louis’ hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve spent too long letting you slip through my fingers. You’re safe here, and I want you here.”

“I wonder if there will ever be a day where you tell me you love me and I don’t feel warmth all the way to my fingertips,” Louis whispers. He worries that if he speaks any louder that their bubble will burst.

“I hope not.”

Harry kisses him softly, no heat behind it, and Louis melts into his arms. He figures that was the point anyway; take his mind off his worries, help him relax, and emphasize his words.

“Thank you,” Louis says once they break apart. 

“I love you.” Harry reaches up and brushes his thumb over Louis’ cheekbone, hands cradling his face.

“I love you, too.” 

Of course, it’s the moment Clifford comes running into the room, barreling into their legs and dropping his leash at their feet. His dog’s never been good at subtlety, as he sits there and wags his tail, looking at them expectantly.

“Buddy, do you want to go for a walk?” Louis asks, voice light as he raises his eyebrows.

Cliff’s tail wags faster, and Louis laughs, reaching down to scratch behind his ears.

The moment is over, their bubble popped, but Louis feels significantly better as they walk down the street, hand in hand, Clifford leading the way eagerly. 

As they make their way around the neighborhood, Louis’ sure they look like a perfectly normal couple, taking their dog on a walk. They’re far from leading normal lives, and Louis’ not sure if they ever will, but for this moment he can pretend. He grips Harry’s hand tighter and enjoys the warm breeze that blows his hair away from his forehead.

* * *

“I never want to wear a suit ever again,” Louis complains. “I wear entirely too many, and for what reason?”

“Because they make your butt look really good?”

Louis makes eye contact with Harry in the mirror, laughing at the way his eyes dart downward to take another glance at Louis’ ass in the trousers he’s wearing. 

“But at what cost, Harry? At what cost?” he teases, straightening his tie.

“This is for a good cause!” Harry protests. 

“You’re right, you’re right,” Louis concedes, admiring Harry in the mirror, not even attempting to be sneaky about it. He looks good, a bright floral shirt buttoned up underneath his jacket, opting to forgo the tie. “For the kids, right?”

“For the kids.” Harry nods, serious for one moment before his face cracks into a smile. He reaches out a hand and Louis takes it easily, allowing himself to be pulled from the room. “We’re going to be late if we don’t hurry up.”

They can’t leave without giving Clifford kisses on top of his head and scratching behind his ear, trying to ignore the look he gives as he notices them leaving without them.

“I hate leaving him,” Louis says, sighing as the lock clicks into place behind them.

“We’ll be back in a few hours. He’ll be okay,” Harry assures him, pulling him closer by their joined hands and kissing the top of Louis’ head. 

“Hmm,” Louis hums.

The ride to the art museum is a short one, filled with singing top 40 songs at the top of their lungs as they let the wind from the open winds mess up the hair they spent so much time doing before they left. Louis finds he doesn’t care much, not when Harry’s cheeks are red from laughing so hard and his own stomach hurts so much he doesn’t think he can take it anymore.

The parking lot is crowded, and by the time Harry finds a spot, Louis is anxious to get inside. “I bet they’re already waiting for us.”

“They can wait a little longer,” Harry says, coming around the side of the car to peck his cheek softly. He sets a hand on the small of Louis’ back and uses it to guide them towards the entrance. “It’s not like we’re missing anything.”

“We’re missing the chance to see beautiful art,” Louis protests with a laugh.

“It will still be there in thirty seconds after we buy our tickets and go inside.”

Louis stays quiet because he’s right, but he can’t tamper down the energy thrumming just under his skin. As long as he’s been doing this job, stealing money from rich people and donating it to various charities, he’s never been invited to something like this.

They’ve been invited to an art show for the local teen LGBTQ+ center, and he wants a chance to see everything tonight.

“It will also still be there for the next month, but I want to see it now,” Louis says. He reaches for Harry’s hand that isn’t on his back, playing with the fingers while they wait in line to buy their tickets. 

There’s soft music coming from the propped open door, and faint conversations go in one ear and out the other. Louis doesn’t focus on any of it - instead, he listens to the rambling story Harry tells about the time he fell off a boat when he was out on the lake last summer with his friends. He focuses on the way his eyes light up as he tells the story, about how he was coughing up lake water for a week, and feels peace in a way he hasn’t in a long time.

Inside, artwork lines the walls, and there are plenty of teenagers and happy families strolling around admiring it all. Harry’s hand drops from his back and immediately intertwines his fingers with Louis’, giving a quick squeeze as they wander casually through the crowds.

The crowd thins out the closer they walk to the back of the exhibit, and Louis spots Zayn and Liam tucked into a corner, laughing about something.

“You two are cute,” he teases as they walk up, bursting the bubble they seemed to have found themselves in.

“Nice of you to join us,” Liam says, pulling Louis in for a hug before doing the same to Harry. “You’re only almost an hour late.”

“It’s not like the art is going anywhere,” Louis says, allowing himself to be wrapped up into another hug, this time by Zayn.

Louis turns his head to look around the room, but can’t spot who he’s looking for. 

“Niall went to the bathroom,” Zayn says, as if he can read Louis’ mind. “He said to tell you off for being late.”

Louis sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling, before he feels arms wrap around him from behind. His first instinct is to tense up, but no one else seems alarmed, and he relaxes his shoulders as he listens to the familiar laugh in his ear.

“I was worried you were going to turn around and deck me,” Niall admits, loosening his grip and coming into view.

“I thought about it.”

“I appreciate the honesty.” 

Harry takes his hand again and his rings feel cool against Louis’ fingers when the room feels so warm around them. He can’t believe he’d denied himself this for so long - the comfort of having someone to hold onto in a crowd, the reassuring hand at the small of his back, the feel of Harry’s fingers interlocked with his own. 

“We’re going to have a look around. We’ll see you guys around, maybe,” Harry says.

Right before they turn to go, Liam stops them by calling out their names. When they pause and look at him, he lets out a small laugh. 

“You both just raised your left eyebrow at me,” he explains, a smile overtaking his face. “Kind of weird. Anyway, I was thinking you guys could come over to Zayn and I’s place after this for a few drinks?”

“Yeah, Li, we’ll be there,” Louis says warmly, returning his smile. 

“We should do things like this more often,” Harry says as they walk away.

“Going to art museums?”

“No.” Harry shakes his head. “Well, yeah. Kind of?”

“What do you mean, babe?” Louis asks, keeping his voice soft, conversation just between them.

“I just mean, like, dates and hanging out with friends,” he says, shrugging as he stares pointedly at the painting hanging in front of them. It says  _ ‘Benjamin, 17’  _ and it’s named ‘ _ happiness _ ’ but Louis suspects he’s not staring because the colors speak to him so much.

“Are you embarrassed about telling me you want to go on dates with me?” Louis asks, keeping his voice just as soft.

“No-” Harry glances at him from the corner of his eyes. “Maybe.”

Louis squeezes his hand tighter and steps closer to lean his head against his shoulder. Harry laughs and tries to squirm away, claiming Louis’ hair is tickling his neck. Louis won’t let him get too far though, pulling him back by their still joined hands and positioning his head so his hair won’t tickle Harry’s sensitive neck.

“I figured going on dates was something we would do, you know, as two people who are in love and, for all intents and purposes, living together.”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes.

“But I’ll ask you on a proper one if you want.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Harry,” Louis cuts him off, kissing the spot where his neck almost disappears under his shirt. “Do you want to go to dinner with me tomorrow night? Like on a date? A proper one?”

“Yeah,” he answers, and Louis can hear the smile in his voice, can imagine the way he’s probably biting his lips while his dimples burrow deep into his cheeks. 

“Perfect, now let’s enjoy some art.”

Louis pulls him all around the exhibit, and Harry follows happily. While all of the art is beautiful, Louis loves the brightly colored ones, where he can see the love that’s poured into them. He almost feels like crying, as they wander around, reading the names and descriptions of each piece of art.

“Things like this make it worth it, you know?” Harry whispers when they’re back in the car.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees.

“Even if it is tiring and I think I’m losing my hair because of it.”

“Oh, sorry to tell you, but I definitely think you’re losing your hair because of it,” Louis laughs, throwing his head back against the headrest. “Think you might be bald within a year.”

“Fuck,” Harry swears, laughing easily as they drive the road back to his apartment. 

“Then what will I stay for?”

Harry bites at his lip, containing his smile. “My charming personality?”

“Hmm,” Louis hums. “Not sure if that’s enough.”

“I guess I’ll enjoy it for the time being.”

Harry parks in front of his apartment building, but doesn’t make a move to get out. Louis can tell he’s thinking about something from the way his mouth twists and his eyebrows pull together.

“Want to tell me about it?” he asks.

“I don’t want you to move out,” Harry admits.

“What?” That’s not what Louis thought he was going to say.

Harry shifts in his seat until he’s making eye contact with him, face so serious Louis almost wants to laugh.

“I don’t want you to move out,” he repeats. He reaches across the center console and grabs a hold of Louis’ hand. “I like having you around and I think that you should, you know, stick around.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Yeah. If you want that, then I want that.”

Louis’ face breaks into a beaming smile, reaching over into Harry’s space to grab his face with both hands and plant a firm kiss onto his lips. It’s difficult because they both refuse to let go of their smiles, and the center console digs into Louis’ ribs, but he can’t let go.

“I love you,” he says, pulling away. “Now can we go inside and change so we can get to Liam’s before they eat all the pizza without us?”

  
  


Later that night, with Harry tucked in his arms, Louis allows himself to whisper the words he’s been thinking for some time now, but couldn’t find the strength to admit.

“I think I want to retire from this life,” Louis admits.

It’s silent for a minute, maybe more. Louis can’t tell in the darkness. He doesn’t even know if Harry’s awake until he rolls over onto his back and pulls Louis into his side.

“I think I do, too.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Have you seen where I put the wine?” Louis asks, coming up behind Harry and hooking his chin over his shoulder. “I thought I left it on the counter here but apparently not.”

“Didn’t you take it outside?” Harry gestures with his wooden spoon towards the open backdoor. 

Louis hums but doesn’t answer. His fingers curl into the fabric of Harry’s shirt and he presses a kiss to the sensitive skin of his neck behind his ear. 

“If you did take it outside,” Harry continues, focusing too hard on making their dinner despite Louis’ attempt at distracting him, “I’m sure everyone’s broken into it by now.”

“Should I just grab another bottle and bring it out to be safe?”

“I think we’ll need at least one more bottle, anyway.”

“Fine,” Louis sighs. He unwraps his arms from Harry’s middle, but not before pressing another kiss to the side of his neck.

Louis makes his way over to the fridge and grabs another bottle of red wine off the top of it. On his way back out to their backyard, he plants a loud kiss on Harry’s cheek, laughing when Harry pretends to be disgusted, wiping at his cheek. 

Outside, the warm breeze of late spring greets him, blowing his fringe away from his forehead as he sits down at their table. The first thing Harry had demanded when they moved in was patio furniture. One of the main reasons they ended up choosing this place over others was the nice outdoor space. 

“Is dinner almost done?” Liam asks, reaching to take the bottle of wine from Louis’ hands. Harry had been correct - the other bottle is sitting in the center of the table.

“I think so. Didn’t ask.” Louis shrugs. Liam pours him a glass of wine and he accepts the glass gratefully. Clifford wanders over from his spot in the grass, plopping down heavily next to Louis, most likely hoping that Louis will slip him some food during dinner. 

“What good are you, then?” Liam teases. He looks more relaxed than Louis’ ever seen him, in all the years they’ve known each other. He’s letting his hair grow out longer, his eyes seem brighter, and he’s got an arm thrown around Zayn’s chair. It doesn’t look like he’s holding as much stress in his shoulders, and Louis is happy for him.

He wonders if the change is as evident in his own physical appearance. He wonders if others can notice the way he doesn’t feel like the world is pressing down on his shoulders, wonders if everyone else can notice the missing undereye bags, wonders if they can see the happiness and content written all over his face and the way he carries himself now.

As if he can read Louis’ mind, Niall asks, “How’s retirement treating you?”

“Well, it’s only been a few months, but I can’t complain yet,” Louis answers truthfully. “We have dinner together every night and I love the English classes I’m taking at the university. I’ve been thinking about getting my degree in education and maybe becoming an English teacher, you know. And Harry loves working at the coffee shop, for reasons I won’t understand, but we’re good. We’re happy, yeah.”

“I’m happy for you, Lou,” Zayn says, giving him a warm smile across the table. 

He refills his wine glass just as Harry joins them, carrying the plate of pasta on one hand and the bowl of garlic bread in the other. He sets it down on the center of the table, taking a seat in the empty chair next to Louis. He squeezes at Louis’ thigh, accepting the glass of wine handed to him.

“Can we cheers?” Niall asks, raising his almost empty glass. 

In the distance, a dog barks at something, but Louis doesn’t hear it over the sound of their glasses clinking together. It’s getting dark out, the sun setting quickly behind the trees, but he doesn’t want to disturb the moment just yet by standing up to turn on the patio lights.

“What did we cheers for?” Harry asks, taking Louis’ plate and scooping a helping of pasta onto it before doing the same for himself. 

“To retirement,” Niall says, digging into his own plate of food.

It’s quiet while they eat, sounds of forks clinking against plates and wine as they refill their glasses. Somewhere between finishing their plates of pasta and breaking into the batch of cupcakes Harry made for them earlier, they’ve opened the second bottle of wine. Harry decides after he’s dropped icing onto his shorts that he can’t eat in the dark anymore, flicking on the patio lights. 

They hang out well into the night, until the second bottle of wine is long gone and Harry’s packed up the leftovers and tucked them into the fridge. It’s the first time they’ve all hung out like this since they all retired, and it feels nice, to catch up and feel a sense of normalcy that had been missing from their lives for so long.

Once Niall finally leaves, slurring his words and talking about how much he loves them all, Louis helps Harry with the dishes, which results in Harry spraying him with the sink hose and soaking the floor.

“You’re cleaning that up, fucker,” Louis laughs, coming up and pulling Harry in for a tight hug, his wet shirt soaking through Harry’s until they’re both shivering. 

“I’ll mop it up if you warm up the shower?” Harry suggests, pressing a kiss to the top of Louis’ head.

“Deal.”

He grabs fresh towels from the hall closet and heads into the bathroom. The speaker is still in there from Louis’ last shower, and he turns on his favorite playlist. The soft music fills up the room just as he turns on the shower, testing the water on his hand until it reaches the temperature he wants.

The water is gentle on his skin once he climbs inside, letting it wash over him until his hair is saturated and the goosebumps are gone from his skin. He feels Harry slip in behind him, fingers slipping on Louis’ wet skin.

“Want me to do your hair?” he asks, and Louis nods without turning, passing the shampoo over his shoulder. 

Harry is generous with his shampoo usage, always forgetting that Louis has significantly less hair than him, barely able to keep it from running into Louis’ face as he massages his scalp. When he starts laughing, Louis doesn’t even have to ask to know that he’s definitely put his hair up in a mohawk, flattening it down before he asks Louis to move under the spray and rinse it out.

Louis returns the favor, ignoring the way his arms hurt from reaching up. The few inches Harry has on him don’t often seem like much, but it’s obvious in the way he has to stretch to get the roots of Harry’s hair, arms tired by the time he’s done. 

They stay in the shower until the water runs chilly, wrapping themselves in fluffy towels as they pad down the hallway to their bedroom. Clifford is already inside waiting on them, happily wagging his tail at the end of the bed. Once they’re dressed and in bed, Clifford settles heavily on top of their feet.

“If he didn’t like you, this would have never worked out,” Louis whispers into Harry’s hair.

Louis can feel him chuckle and can imagine the soft smile on his face. 

“He likes everyone,” he says.

“That’s why it would have been a problem if he didn’t like you.”

Harry laughs again, pulling Louis’ arms tighter around his middle. 

“It was nice to see the guys today,” Louis admits. “It’s been so long.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, but it sounds like there might be more, something he’s holding back.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I just- I worried we wouldn’t see each other anymore now that we aren’t all working together and forced to see each other.”

“Babe,” Louis says, trying to hide the fondness he feels bursting at his seams. “They’re stuck with us. The same way you’re stuck with me.”

“Don’t feel very stuck,” Harry mumbles.

“Oh, you’re stuck. You’re never getting rid of me.”

“Don’t wanna get rid of you.” Harry turns in Louis’ arms until they’re facing each other, shifting enough to annoy Clifford into jumping off the bed. “I wanna keep you around forever.”

“Forever is a long time.” Louis’ giving him the chance to take the out, laugh and play it off as a joke.

“And you’re stuck spending it with me.” He smiles, softly, bringing Louis’ wrist up to press a kiss to the inside of it. 

“Don’t be such a sap,” Louis says, but they both know he doesn’t mean it. They both know Louis loves it, loves the sappiness and the cheesiness and the words of affirmation and the kisses they share between soft smiles. 

“You just bring it out in me,” Harry says in between laughter. 

After his laughter quiets down, he begins rambling about all the things he wants to get done in the upcoming week, from painting the guest room to buying another bag of dog food. Louis listens happily, trailing a finger up and down his arm, and they both know Louis’ not going to remember any of it unless it’s written down somewhere, but it doesn’t matter. Louis is content to listen to the way Harry’s voice gets deeper the closer he gets to sleep and the way he fights to keep his eyes open. At some point, he trails off into sleep, sentence forgotten halfway through.

Eventually, Clifford must stop being mad at them for disturbing his slumber and he jumps back on the bed, settling into the space behind Louis’ knees. 

Louis watches the way Harry’s eyelashes flutter in his sleep and listens to the sound of Harry’s snores mixing with Clifford’s and hopes the butterflies in his stomach never go away when he thinks about this being his forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you enjoyed, didn't enjoy, just want a friend - feel free to reach out on [tumblr!](https://adoredontour.tumblr.com)  
> [fic post](https://adoredontour.tumblr.com/post/620733613133135872/robbers-and-cowards-33k-if-i-didnt-know-any)


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